


Love is a binary code (LiaBC)

by SasuSoul



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Androids, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Android Hunk (Voltron), Android Lance (Voltron), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Art Student Keith (Voltron), Bottom Keith (Voltron), Character Death, College Student Keith (Voltron), Crossover, Death, Detroit Become Human AU, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Male Character, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gun Violence, Human Keith (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Fluff, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Smut, Langst, M/M, Made For Each Other, Male Homosexuality, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Serious Injuries, Sex worker lance (Voltron), Smut, Tags Contain Spoilers, Top Lance (Voltron), Violence, klance, klangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2019-08-08 23:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 69,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SasuSoul/pseuds/SasuSoul
Summary: When an escort android suddenly shows up at art student Keith Kogane’s doorstep a rainy October day in 2038, he instantly looks for the hidden camera. I mean, who the fuck would be stupid enough to think this is a good idea for a gift? Besides, he did NOT sign up for this. Nope, no robots. Never. But he quickly learns that the charm of an LX700 model is deadly, and that he is not immune to its effects. Suddenly Keith finds himself doing things he would have never imagined and feeling things that shouldn’t be possible to feel for a machine. And Lance, he seems so human. Smiling at him, flirting, complimenting and comforting him through the act. In just a few hours, Keith isn’t sure what the difference between man and machine is anymore. When Lance turns to leave, Keith braces himself for the inevitable rejection, but instead an event ensues that will throw both him and his new android companion into a spiral of events so dark and twisted that there is no way to know whether they will escape alive. And Keith won’t be the only one to ask the essential question of just what it means to be alive, and whether or not androids fall under this definition.





	1. The android sent by Eden Club

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> Finally got the first chapter of this bad boy finished! I've had this story in my mind since I played through the game at the end of July. Hopefully you will enjoy it! 
> 
> I hope I will be able to update this regularly, but I cannot give any promises. My day to day life is pretty busy, and I only work on this in my limited spare time. i also want the quality to be decent, so I won't post anything until I am fairly happy with it. But I WILL finish this at some point, even if it takes me years (Hope no one will quote me on that).
> 
> There is some smut in this chapter, I would say it is semi-important to the plot, but if you want you can skip it. Stop reading at “Well, I don’t see the point in me staying here unless I do my job.” and start up again at "After pulling out..." 
> 
> Without further ado... Let's get started.

**Saturday October 30th 2038, 4 PM - 6 PM**

 

“Hi, my name is Lance. I am the android sent by Eden Club.”

Keith Kogane felt his jaw drop to his chest, his face flushing a velvet red. While examining the android in front of him, he quickly tried to regain his composure. Its dim blue eyes were scanning his body up and down, its mouth giving off a confident smirk. The android had one hand placed casually on its hip, the other came up to ruffle through its short maroon hair. The machine wore a standard dark grey android jacket and pants, its model and serial number displayed in white print on the jacket’s right side. On the left, a blue triangle was placed over the location of the biocomponent made to resemble a human heart.   _LX700_ Keith read. He’d never heard of that model before. Not that he was very experienced with escort androids, or androids in general for that matter. This one, apparently going by the name Lance, was just slightly taller than him with flawless tan skin and plump inviting lips. If this had been a boy on the street, Keith would have stared. But it wasn’t. It was clearly an android, an android meant to fulfil erotic fantasies. And Keith had most definitely NOT ordered said android to his home.

“You’re Keith Kogane, right?” it spoke again, voice smooth and steady, the smirk still lingering on its lips. “Are you gonna invite me in or are we supposed to stay here looking awkwardly at each other? It’s ok, I don’t judge”, Lance shrugged its shoulders.

“Umm… Who sent you here exactly?” Keith asked, trying not to make his voice tremble. This had quickly turned into a very uncomfortable situation. He swiftly scanned the hallway to see if any of the neighbors had noticed them.

“You did hermoso. I’m here to serve you, remember?” _Handsome, serve_ , this model was clearly specialized in seduction. Keith gulped. He was not going to fall for this sick joke. Someone had to be right around the corner with a camera or something. Could it be Pidge? This certainly seemed like something their twisted mind could come up with. Keith could not help looking down at its lips again. The damn android still wore that adorable smirk, its blinking LED the only thing that separated it from an approximately 20-year-old male. It was Keith’s type all right. Whoever ordered it had hit the nail on the head. However, he was not going to admit that to anyone. He scanned the hallway again, more thoroughly this time.

“There’s no one here, your neighbors are out. It’s just you and me. _All alone_.” The last part was whispered seductively with a slight Spanish accent. Keith felt a small shiver go down his spine. He wouldn’t really mind being seduced by that voice. No, he had to focus. He shook his head and cleared his throat, locking his eyes on the android’s serial number before speaking:

“I’m sorry, I haven’t ordered y-your s-service.” Keith internally cursed at himself for stuttering. The android looked somewhat amused, chuckling a little before leaning in closer. Keith could feel its simulated breathing hot on his face as it whispered again. “I guess this must be your lucky day then, because I’m rented to this address for the next two hours”. Lance pulled back slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Are you sure no one is in the hallway?” Keith asked, now trembling slightly. “Positive. I am programmed not to lie”. The android then winked at him, clearly amused by his awkwardness. _Simulated emotions_ Keith reminded himself.

Keith stepped in trough the doorway and quickly motioned for the android to follow him. It closed the door after them and leaned up against the wall, quickly scanning the area around it before settling its cobalt eyes on Keith once again. “Ummm… Y-you stay here. I’m just gonna make a quick phone call” he managed to stutter before leaving the hallway and entering the kitchen. As he picked up his phone from the kitchen counter he heard Lance’s voice calling out to him “Don’t make me wait for too long, pretty boy!” He felt his face turn all shades of red again.

The first number he dialed was Pidge’s. They picked up after three rings, their voice coated thick with sleep even though it was four in the afternoon. “Whaddaya want?” they muttered annoyed, yawning into the microphone. Keith felt himself getting more and more fired up by the second. He was incredibly annoyed by that feigned tone of ignorance coming from his younger friend. “You know damn well what I want!” he yelled. “What the fuck has gotten into your sick mind for you to send a god damn sex android to my house?? It’s the middle of the day, anyone could have seen it!” The only thing he could hear on the other end was some sort of sick cackle and a thumping noise indicating that Pidge had fallen out of their bed. “AHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAHAA!” The little gremlin sounded like they were about to die from laughter. “IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Keith screamed at them, feeling his face turn hot and his palms sweaty. “Get it to leave, please!”

It was silent on the other end for a couple of seconds, probably because Pidge was taking their time to sit back up on the bed. Then the chuckling started again. At the same time, a voice called from the hallway “Ouch, that was hurtful Keith! I thought you liked me!” Aaaand he was blushing again. Couldn’t that damn thing just shut up?

“OMG you weren’t joking!” the chuckling continued to rise in volume.  “Of course I wasn’t! Now get it to leave!”

“Sorry dude, this is not my doing. I really wish it was, but it isn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Keith yelled, his stress intensifying. “Who else would come up with such a sick joke?” He tried to think of someone other than Pidge capable of having such twisted sense of humor but came up empty handed. “I am flattered, I really am. But someone else has to take the credit for this one.”

“But no one else could possibly be this evil and disgusting. It has to be you!” Keith felt himself grasping at straws. Surely it had to be Pidge. The little evil scumbag was just playing games with him. “In all seriousness, it wasn’t me. I swear.” Keith sighed in defeat. Pidge was an asshole all right, but they never would have lied to him.

“Then why is it here?”

“Beats me. Maybe someone actually tried to be nice to you?”

“But who could possibly think this would be an appropriate thing to do?”

“I think we both know the answer to that question.”

Keith groaned audibly, his left hand palming his face. “Oh my god, you mean it’s Shiro? I told him I was stressed out the other day and THIS is how he responds??” He could hear Pidge trying to stay serious at the other end of the phone and failing miserably. Soon their laugh plummeted through the speakers again, followed by another thump. They really needed to learn how to balance better. “I’m sorry Keith, this is just so fucking hilarious!” The sound of them taking a deep breath and regaining their composure could be heard through the speakers. “But yeah, I agree. This has to be the work of Takashi _Dense dad_ Shirogane.”

Keith groaned again. “Why did I have to be cursed with such an imbecile of a brother?” He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what had to be done. Confronting his brother with this would _not_ be fun. But first, he had to take care of the gremlin. “Please promise me you won’t tell anyone.” Pidge snickered on the other end. “My silence is never for free, Kogane, you know that.”

“I will buy you the new Zelda VR-game you wanted. Just please, keep quiet!”

“I knew I could count on you! I want the code by next Friday.”

“Fine... Talk to you later.” Keith sighed in defeat.

“Have fun with your present!”

“PIDGE!” but the teen had already hung up on him. They were probably rolling on the floor laughing right now. _I guess I can’t blame them for reacting that way, this is pretty fucked up_. Keith started pacing back and forth in the kitchen pulling on his hair and groaning. He completely missed the sound of footsteps from the hallway, and practically jumped from astonishment at the voice coming from the other side of the room.

“You sound tense, lindo. Want me to loosen you up a bit?” Keith turned around. There was that trademark smirk again. How was it even possible to have such pearly white teeth? _Because it isn’t human_ Keith reminded himself. It is a machine designed to be appealing. _Designed for my pleasure_. The thought did not do much to calm his growing arousal and embarrassment. He opted for ignoring it this time, and quickly unlocked his phone to dial Shiro’s number. While it rang, he felt a pair of strong hands settling on his shoulders, slowly kneading his tense muscles. Lance hummed a soft melody, and Keith felt his body melt into the touch. His tension started fading away. “Does that feel good?” a soft voice murmured into his ear, as one of the hands started rubbing his back in circular motions. “Yes” Keith felt his heartbeat steadily rising. But this time it was different. He was filled with anticipation. The android clearly knew what it was doing.

“Hello little brother” he jumped at the voice coming through at the other end of the line, the memory of calling someone already wiped from his mind. He barely registered what Shiro was saying, his body leaning into the touch of the LX700. His touch felt so good. _It, its touch_ he reminded himself. This was just a machine, after all.

“Did you get my present?” The question snapped Keith back to reality. He quickly straightened himself, pulling his body away from Lance’s touch. “Hey!” the android called out, seemingly surprised. Its circular LED flashed yellow for a split second, before going back to its original blue color. It cocked its head slightly, looking at him with ( _simulated,_ Keith muttered under his breath) worry in its eyes. “You ok?”

“I’m fine!” Keith breathed, sending Lance a reassuring smile. Then he placed the phone by his ear again, finally answering his brother (“Keith?” had been uttered from said phone several times during the quick exchange).

“Yes, hi Shiro!”

“Good, it’s you! I thought I heard someone else.” Keith had to hold back a sigh of frustration. How did his brother manage to be this dense?

“Of course you heard someone else! You sent me a fucking sex robot, remember?? What’s up with that anyway?” He heard a light cough on the other end of the line before Shiro answered him. By now he had started to absentmindedly pace the room again, shoving the Lance android out into the hallway to get more space. It raised its hands in slight protest, but otherwise did nothing to stop him.

“Yeah, right! With you being so stressed out with all your college projects and everything, I figured you’d might need some help to relax. You know, clear your mind.”

“And your idea of fixing that is by sending me a sex toy???” Keith didn’t notice his voice raising to a high pitch. His pacing intensified, and he started absentmindedly biting his thumb, drawing blood.

Suddenly he felt that muscular hand on his shoulder again. He looked up at Lance who just smiled fondly at him, motioning for him turn around so he could massage his shoulders. _I guess it wouldn’t hurt_ he thought, and let his body relax once more. He opened his mouth to speak again, this time in a softer voice. He should try not to be too mad at Shiro. He had obviously done this in an effort to make him feel better, no matter how awkward of a gesture it was.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice at you. I just… This is a pretty strange gift to give. Especially to your brother. And I feel really weirded out by you thinking that I would enjoy having sex with a robot.”

“It IS weird isn’t it? I really should have listened to Matt and just ordered you some pizza. But I figured this would be good for you. I know you haven’t had a boyfriend in a while, and well, I thought this might cheer you up. I read the other day that one out of every three college students are lonely…” Shiro continued to ramble, and Keith was sure his older brother was blushing right now, probably running his hand through his hair. Shiro always had the best of intentions, but why did he have to be so awkward? Well, at least Keith knew whom he had picked up that skill from.

“Whether or not I have sex shouldn’t really be something you concern yourself with, you know? And even if I wanted that, I would much prefer to go out to a club and find someone…” he looked over his shoulder at Lance’s LED “…well, more human. Robots don’t really do much for me.” Lance pressed a soft kiss to the nape of his neck, as if to say that he ( _It,_ Keith cursed internally) accepted the challenge this statement had come with. Keith had to fight back a moan. “A-and besides. Several people fuck these machines every single day. The thought of a middle-aged sweaty man’s fluids being all over this thing is really not that appealing.”

“I’m a prototype model. Only one of its kind. Straight out of the factory. I’ve never been used before. _You’ll be my first_.” the answer came in a seductive whisper as soon as the last word of his sentence had fallen from his lips, followed by another kiss to his exposed neck. Keith felt himself growing hard at this. Embarrassingly hard. He let out a small whine. Luckily, Shiro didn’t seem to have heard this exchange.

“Don’t worry. I asked them to send you a new one.” The android continued with its assault on Keith’s neck, and he found it increasingly harder to focus. But he would never in his right mind admit to his brother that he wanted to have sex with this robot.

“I still think it’s kinda weird. I’ll have it sent back to the club. Thanks anyway, I can pay you back if you want.” He felt the kisses stop as Lance stepped back, turned and started walking towards the hallway. _What was that about?_ He thought.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll send you that pizza later to make it up to you, sorry.”

“It’s ok. Thank you, Shiro. Talk to you later.”

“Bye Keith, I love you.”

“Love you too.” he hung up and placed his phone on the kitchen counter again before following the Lance android into the hallway. Once he was there, he cleared his throat to get its attention.

“Ahem” Lance turned its head, its ocean eyes piercing through Keith’s purple. “Where are you going?” he asked, suddenly feeling uncertain. If he did this, there really was no turning back. He would become a freak. The kind of man his friends would laugh at. But its skin seemed so soft, its lips so inviting. _Designed for my pleasure_ he thought again, his erection straining in his pants. Keith gulped.

“I am heading back to the factory, you said you wanted to return me, remember?” Lance stated matter-of-factly. It turned around again, walking towards the front door with determined steps. Keith’s body acted before his mind could stop him. He forcefully grabbed Lance’s arm, pulling it back so its rear was flush against his chest. “Wait. Don’t leave yet.”

The android freed itself from his grasp and turned to face him. Its eyes scanned him with an unmasked fascination. “Your actions confuse me, Keith. First, you want me to go. Now you say you want me to stay. But my presence is clearly making you uncomfortable. Are all humans this indecisive?”

“I-I didn’t say I want to do anything. I just don’t see the point in you leaving when I’ve paid for your time.” Keith rambled on, trying to justify his past actions to himself. _You cannot do this_ he told himself determinedly. _This is a robot, how much of a freak are you?_

Lance leaned in closer, his hand coming up to grab Keith’s shirt by the collar. Lowering his voice, he brought out that husky whisper again. “Well, I don’t see the point in me staying here unless I do my job.” Keith felt a hand ghost over the outside of his jeans, brushing against his covered member. He shivered. Another whimper escaped his slightly parted lips. O _h, Lord Jesus I want him so bad_. Lance cupped his chin in its left hand, tilting it upwards before hovering his lips over Keith’s, just barely avoiding their touch. Keith felt his face heat up again, his heartbeat ringing through his ears. The LED on its forehead flashed repeatedly as it scanned every inch of Keith’s face. His eyes, his ebon skin, the tiny freckles lightly dusted across his nose. Keith almost felt vulnerable being observed up close like this. He tried to speak, but his words were stuck in his throat. _So beautiful_. He lifted his hand to comb through Lance’s hair. _So soft._ Their gazes met once more, before Keith’s eyes quickly flitted down to Lance’s lips. _I bet they are soft too_. Lance smirked, its eyes never leaving Keith’s.

“This boils down to two options. One, I leave here before you waste any more of my time. Or two, we use this remaining hour to have some fun. If not, I will have been paid in advance for nothing. It’s your choice babe”. All these nicknames made Keith’s knees grow weak. _To hell with it!_

Keith’s chapped lips smashed against Lance’s plump ones. _His first kiss,_ he thought. Their lips fit together perfectly, tongues wrestling and teeth nibbling at each other’s lips in a seductive dance. Lance easily won the fight for dominance, and his tongue continued to plunge into Keith’s mouth, making him spill out obscene noises. While doing this, he lifted Keith’s shirt and started to tug at it. Keith lifted his arms pliantly, and they stopped kissing for a split second to allow the garment to be slipped off him. Keith pulled Lance back in immediately. Desperate to feel its - _his_ \- touch. He started tugging at the buttons of his jacket, trying to push them through the hoops. Keith let out a frustrated groan, realizing that he was failing miserably.

The kissing stopped, and a pair of hands came down to remove his from the buttons. “Let me do that for you, sweetheart.” Lance hummed, unbuttoning his jacket with ease, before throwing it aside in one swift motion. It took only a millisecond for Keith’s lips to be back on his. He leaned in eagerly, deepening the kiss. Wanting to feel more of him. _More of Lance_. His hands roamed under the android’s shirt, feeling the steady beat of his biocomponents. There was a comforting heat seeping out through his body. Like he was pulsing with energy. Keith savored the feeling of that heat against his skin, burning it into his memory.

Soon Lance’s white shirt, along with his jeans, was laying on the floor in a pool next to the boys. Keith couldn’t help looking at the bulge in the android’s underwear. He seemed to be packing a lot. _Well, he is a sex robot. It would make sense for him to be… big._ Keith gulped, willing his eyes to leave Lance’s bulge.

“Like what you see, sweetie?” Keith felt hands on him once again. Strong hands roaming across his chest, a thumb flicking over his left nipple. He moaned softly and was earned with another flick. “So sensitive” Lance murmured, his lips ghosting along Keith’s collarbone before sucking at the soft, pale skin, covering it in small hickeys. Those lips were like heaven, and Keith wanted nothing more than their undivided attention. The hands started roaming lower on his body, fingers hovering over Keith’s abs, tracing a small trail of black hairs from Keith’s navel down towards his lower abdomen. As the hand ghosted over his clothed sex Keith’s pulse quickened, his chest heaving in anticipation.

Instead of freeing Keith’s member from its confinements, the hands went around his body, cupping his ass. Lips brushed alongside the edge of Keith’s ear, making him shiver. “Jump!” Lance commanded. Keith obliged, wrapping his legs around the android’s waist, feeling himself being lifted of the ground. Lance continued to pay attention to his ear, sucking at the lobe playfully. Keith bit his lower lip and moaned hoarsely, combing his fingers through Lance’s soft brown hair, tugging at it slightly.

Their lips met in another tender kiss, tongues brushing against each other fighting for dominance. “Bedroom?” Lance asked, giving Keith’s ass a light squeeze. “Up the stairs. First door to the left.” A few quick strides later, and Keith was being pushed gently onto the edge of his mattress, lips once again attacking his sensitive neck. “L-lance.” He gasped, feeling a hand playing with the waistband of his jeans.

“I think it is time we got rid of this, don’t you?” Lance didn’t wait for an answer, discarding his boxers without hesitation. Keith felt a hand gripping his already rock-hard member, giving it a few experimental strokes. He was sure that the sounds who left his mouth were ungodly. The feeling of being touched by someone other than himself, he had almost forgotten how much more satisfying that was.

“Someone’s excited.” Lance murmured, his face dipping down between Keith’s legs to study his member in detail. Being this exposed made his cheeks flush red from embarrassment, but the sudden feeling of a warm mouth enveloping the tip of his member made him forget all about it. “Please don’t stop. So good.” He grabbed a fistful of Lance’s hair, helping him bob up and down on his cock. The combination of sucking and licking on his member made him lose his mind. This was by far the best blowjob he had ever received. _I guess people order these things for a reason._

He soon felt his cock reach the back of Lance’s throat, and what was there sent him skyrocketing into oblivion. Pulsing vibrations spread throughout his member, filling him with a sensation unlike anything he had ever felt before. “L-lance, I’m close.” He moaned breathlessly, tugging at his hair forcefully to keep himself grounded.

With a loud pop, Lance released Keith’s cock from his mouth, moving up to kiss him softly on his forehead. “Gorgeous.” He whispered, thumb caressing Keith’s cheek fondly. Pulling him in for another kiss, Keith bucked his hips up towards Lance’s, desperate for friction. “So eager. Patience, hermoso. I will take good care of you.” The husky Spanish accent went straight to Keith’s abdomen, making it twitch with excitement. Noticing his partners lack of nudity, Keith propped himself up on one elbow and started tugging at Lance’s briefs. They were swiftly removed, and now it was Keith’s turn to grab a hold and brush his fingers across the others pulsating head. To his surprise, Lance let out a tiny whimper at the touch. Leaning in closer, Keith gave the shaft a tentative lick. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Lance was shivering, his eyes half-lidded, staring at Keith with a lustful gaze. He suddenly felt very pleased with himself, but also quite astounded. He had never heard of androids with actual sexual desires before. _Maybe he is just faking it?_ “You… Can you _feel_ that?” he asked curiously, giving another lick to empathize his question.

“Y-yeah.” Lance’s voice was shaking. “I am equipped with a signal network comparable to a nervous system. Complete with erogenous zones. I didn’t really know what that implied until now. I guess it’s there to make the act more believable.” Keith’s face lit up at this. Lance was able to feel him. He was enjoying himself. Flipping them around, Keith hovered over Lance’s crotch, blowing hot steams of air onto his pulsing member. Once more, he let his tongue flicker across the shaft, swirling it across the head when he came to the top. Lance moaned.

“What are you doing?” Keith looked up. The gaze that met him was a mix between lust and confusion. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he smirked, wrapping a hand around the waiting cock, stroking it tantalizingly slow. Moving his head down again, Keith took the cock in his mouth and started bobbing his head up and down at a slow pace. Soon he felt hands tangling into his hair and heard Lance’s ragged breathing. “This… This isn’t right. I’m the one who’s supposed to pleasure you. You are the customer.”

Keith pauses to look up at him with a lustful gaze, before rolling his tongue over the android’s tip, pressing down on the slit at its head. His reward came in the form of another moan. “Why are you doing this?”

“You like it, don’t you?” Keith was amazed at how seductive his own voice sounded. Lance nodded, opening his mouth to say something more. “Then keep that pretty mouth of yours shut and let me suck your dick.” Lance’s jaw snapped shut and he took a sharp breath, shuddering.

Keith continued his administrations on the member standing at full attention in front of him. He had been completely right – Lance was huge. Lance’s cock felt warm despite its android stature. It pulsed and twitched in time with his movements, just like a human one would. He took it deep over and over, gagging when the head hit the back of his throat. Tears started forming at the corner of his eyes, but he kept going. All the noises coming from Lance’s mouth was worth the small stings of pain.

 “Keith, that feels so good. You look so pretty sucking my cock.” Now it was Keith’s turn to moan at the praise, his cock spasming between his legs. Lance smirked at his reaction, using his newfound leverage to regain control of the situation. “Such a pretty boy. So good for me.”

Keith’s whole body was convulsing, precome leaking from his tip while he sucked down harder. “You like feeling my big cock down your throat? You’re doing such a good job, taking it all in like the good boy you are.” And there he was, coming untouched with a cock down his throat like a 15-year-old virgin, his body shaking, and his lips swollen from stretching around Lance’s thick member. Lance pulled him up and placed him in his lap, giving him a tender kiss. “You did so good. That was amazing.”

“But, but… I wasn’t finished.” Keith started protesting, his hands gripping for Lance’s member desperately. The soft laugh that escaped Lance’s lips as he gripped his wrists and placed them behind his back made Keith’s heart flutter. “As much as I would love for that to continue, we’re getting kinda short on time. And there’s more of you I would really like to explore…” With one hand still holding his wrists, Keith felt another coming down to circle his opening. “Only if you want to, of course.”

He started nodding frantically, already feeling himself growing harder at the thought. “Good. Lie down for me, hermoso.” Obedient as ever, Keith laid down on his back, spreading his legs widely in anticipation for what was to come. Lance leaned over his body, licking his lips. Keith was completely lost in the pool of his ocean blue eyes. Then he felt something cold touch his rim, making him shiver. The digit pushed at his opening before entering slowly, going in all the way to the base and back out. The movement repeated itself a couple of times before Keith felt a strange buzzing sensation that made him let out a cry. _It fucking vibrates_.

As if this new sensation wasn’t enough, Lance seemed to be getting impatient as well, picking up the pace and thrusting his finger dead on Keith’s prostate. The only thing he managed to do was shiver and whimper as his eyes rolled back into his skull, hands gripping at the sheets so hard they went numb. He felt Lance’s soft lips on his as another finger was added to the mix and had to hold himself back from screaming at the top of his lungs.

While scissoring him open, Lance started whispering words of praise and admiration into his ears, and Keith was falling hard. _He is so perfect, I wish I could keep him._ No, he had to stop those thoughts before they could fully manifest. This was a robot after all. A machine devoid of emotions. _In the end, he is nothing more than a program. A bunch of ones and zeroes. But at least for now, I can pretend._

Keith didn’t notice how his body had gone fully limp and his brows had furrowed from thinking. “What’s wrong, lindo? Do you want me to stop?” The fingers had long since retracted, and Lance looked down on him with concern in his eyes, his LED steadily blinking yellow.

“It’s ok I was just… It’s been a while since the last time I did this.” And it had been, so in that sense he wasn’t really lying to him. Besides, what would he say? _Oh, I was just thinking about how hopelessly lost I am in your eyes while you won’t even remember me an hour from now when you are hovering over your next client._

“Don’t worry hermoso. I will make you feel good. It won’t hurt.” A soft kiss was pressed against his forehead, and Keith let his head sink back into the pillow. _At least for now, I can pretend. Pretend that he wants me. Pretend that he cares._ With this in mind, he closed his eyes again and relaxed when the fingers penetrated his entrance. The scissoring motions resumed, and Keith allowed his mind to switch off. Feeling only pleasure. Only Lance.

“Please Lance, I’m ready.” Keith uttered breathlessly. He felt the fingers slip out of him and let out a slight whimper at the sudden emptiness. Opening his eyes, he was faced with a smirking Lance.

“Please what?” Keith flushed, covering his face with his hands. The next words came out as a whisper.

“Please fuck me.” He felt fingers intertwining with his, pulling his hands aside. Once again, he stood face to face with those porcelain white teeth and sea blue eyes. “I didn’t quite catch that. _Say it again_.” His voice was so seductive and commanding that Keith’s embarrassment washed away.

“I said… please fuck me.”

Lance motioned for him to turn around, but he shook his head adamantly. “I want to look you in the eyes while you’re inside me.” Keith could see Lance gulping at that, feeling proud to have such an effect on him.

“As you wish.”

Without warning, Keith felt something hard yet slick pushing into him and filling him up. _Of course he self-lubricates…_

“Nghh… Tight.” He heard Lance mutter while sinking in deeper. Keith let himself get lost in the feeling of being full, whimpering Lance’s name as he bottomed out.

Lance started with a couple of slow thrusts to make Keith used to his length, before speeding up gradually. It didn’t take long before Keith was moaning his name into his neck, digging his nails into Lance’s shoulder blades in a way that most certainly would have led to scratch marks had he been human. His prostate was hit with unbelievable accuracy with every thrust, and Keith felt his orgasm drawing closer.

“You feel so nice and tight around me. So pretty. Taking my cock like you were made for it.” Lance’s praise came out in whispers while the speed and force of his thrusts intensified, pulling Keith’s body closer with every buck of his hips. Keith’s entire body quivered. He felt euphoric.

“I can feel how close you are. Be a good boy and come for me one more time.” Before giving in to oblivion, Keith asked a final question in a shaky voice.

“How about you? Are you going to..?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll come when you come, lindo.” The statement was followed by a series of hard, precise thrusts to his prostate. Keith relaxed and let his orgasm flush over him like a tidal wave. Sure enough, he felt Lance spill inside of him soon after, filling him up with a slick, gooey liquid.

After pulling out, Lance plopped down on his back next to Keith, and the shorter male curled up against him like a child. Keith hummed contentedly as he felt himself being wrapped up in the android’s arms, listening to the steady drum of his Thirium pump. _I could stay here forever_.

Their peace was quickly interrupted by a consecutive beeping noise coming from Lance’s armband. Giving Keith a light nudge, he proceeded to sit up in bed, moving to grab his boxer briefs from the floor. Keith, still sleepy and in afterglow, tugged at his shoulders while muttering “Come back down Laaance, I want to cuddle.”

“Sorry, hermoso. No can do. I have to leave for my next appointment now.” The bubble of ignorance and bliss that had comforted Keith during the last hour popped in an instant, leaving him hurt and perplexed. _This is it. He is leaving. What will I do now?_

“Please don’t go… I want you to stay.” Keith knew how pathetic he sounded, but right now, the thought of Lance in bed with someone else made his insides twist and turn in the most excruciating way.

“I can’t just stay here because you want me to… I have a job to do, you know. Someone else is eagerly awaiting my arrival.” The last part he said with a humorous twinkle in his eye, but this quickly disappeared when he saw the expression of hurt written across Keith’s face.

Lance knelt down next to him and pulled him close. “Hey, don’t be sad, cariño. To tell you the truth, I am really warming up to you. It feels strange to leave when you tell me to stay, but in the end following my program is all I can do.”

A feather-light kiss was planted on his cheek, leaving him immobilized as Lance walked towards the bedroom door. In the doorway, he turned to give him a soft smile.

“This was nice. I really do hope you book me again.” He didn’t answer.

“Goodbye, Keith. Take care.”

_Wait, don’t go!_

Keith had yet to move when the bedroom door closed behind him.


	2. The Eden Club privacy protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s leaving. It’s over. Done. Why did I ever think this would be different? He is a machine, and I am just another client on his booking list...
> 
> Keith tries to get Lance to stay. What follows is something neither of them could have predicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I am back with more stuff for you!  
> This chapter is very intense, and a lot happens in a short amount of time. This section was particularly hard to write, but I think I like the way it turned out (?). Please enjoy! 
> 
> Pointing out that all text in cursive is the so-called “inner Keith” as I have chosen to name it. It is a direct showcase of Keith’s inner dialogue/thoughts. Sometimes he sounds like a sassy narrator… x)

**Saturday October 30 th 6 PM - 8:30 PM**

 

_He’s leaving. It’s over. Done. Why did I ever think this would be different? He is a machine, and I am just another client on his booking list._

Keith felt his whole body wrench in pain. This was not normal. How could someone, _something_ , have such a huge effect on him in such a short amount of time? It should not be possible. Yet here he was, gut twisting and heart beating heavy with anxiety and betrayal because a fucking sex robot had been nice to him before it had to leave. _There has to be something seriously wrong with me_. Groaning in frustration with himself, Keith sat up to look for his boxers. He could hear the croaking sound of feet stepping on stairs, signaling that the android had begun his descent to the hallway.

  _“It feels strange to leave when you tell me to stay…”_ The words Lance had spoken to him before he got up and left were etched into his mind, gnawing at him. He could not help but analyze them over and over again in the span of a few seconds. Desperately grasping for straws, hoping that his words really meant something.

 _Get a grip, Keith! Of course they didn’t! In a few minutes, he will have forgotten all about you._ However, Keith did not want Lance to forget. Not now. Not ever. All he wanted in that moment was for the android to walk back in that door and scoop him up in his strong, tan arms, whispering sweet nothings into his ear while stroking his hair and pressing soft kisses to his neck. And if that could not happen, then Keith wouldn’t mind being zapped clean of the memories from the past two hours. Because life had evidently been so much easier before that LX700 walked through his front door and reminded Keith of how lonely he really felt.

Keith hated himself for feeling so weak and vulnerable all of a sudden. Mostly because there was nothing he could do about it. What he said or did in the next few minutes would not matter in the slightest, because afterward Lance would forget him entirely, and all his struggles would be for nothing. There really was no point in fighting the inevitable.

So when tears started streaming down the sides of his face, leaving his eyes red and puffy, Keith didn’t even bother to wipe them away. He just sat there in silence, feeling the taste of salty water on his chapped lips and the hollowness in his chest. _I really am pathetic._

Hearing his front door opening snapped him out of his self-pitying trance and had him scrambling to his feet, still naked but with fierce determination. It was as if his body went into survival mode from an intense adrenaline rush. The only thought stuck in Keith’s mind as he hastily put on his boxers and stumbled down the stairs at maximum speed was _I cannot let him leave. I just can’t._

He moved without assessing the situation, without considering the possible consequences of running outside in nothing but his briefs to chase down an escort android in an opulent neighborhood. Before he could even begin to fathom what was going on he was out the door, panting and sweating with a desperate look on his face. Lance was just about to turn the corner when he took a deep breath and yelled with so much force it felt as though his lungs were about to burst.

“LANCE!”

The android came to an abrupt halt, but did not respond nor turn around. Keith kept yelling desperately, his voice turning hoarse and sore in his throat. He waited for some sort of response indicating that the android could hear him, but no attempt to answer ensued. Instead, Lance’s entire body started to tremble, vibrations pulsing through him at an erratic pace. The vibrations picked up in speed until his entire being seemed to be involuntarily twitching and convulsing, his limbs spasming in all directions.

“K-Keith!” he managed to squeeze out, sounding like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Keith was by his side in seconds, worry flashing across his purple irises. _This is not normal. Androids do not behave like this._ Holding onto his shoulders firmly he saw how Lance struggled to open his mouth, limbs still moving erratically in any and all directions. His LED was flicking incredibly fast, red and pulsing; his eyes filled with a fear so pure and violent that it broke Keith’s heart. All he wanted was to hold him and tell him it was going to be all right. That this would stop. Pass. But his body froze and all he could do was stand and watch as Lance was hurting, the worry and panic reflecting in his eyes probably not helping the situation at all.

In a final effort to escape his demise, Lance struggled his mouth open, trying to speak but choking on his own words. Guttural cries escaped his body, soaked in pain and panic and travelling all the way to Keith’s core, making him tremble with fear for his companion.

A hand suddenly grabbed a firm hold of his exposed shoulder as Lance gained control of himself for a split second. “Keith! Help me! It’s going away, it is fading! I don’t want to forget you! Why do they want me to forget?”

Keith tightened his grip on Lance’s shoulders, violently shaking him in a frantic attempt to make him snap out of whatever state he was currently trapped in. “Don’t worry! I will help you! Just stay with me! Stay with me, Lance!”

This final struggle seemed to have been the last remaining piece needed to push Lance over the edge. The convulsions in his body reappearing with much greater force, his eyes rolling back into his skull and leaving only white sclera behind before his entire being suddenly went limp and he fell forward onto Keith’s bare chest, making him kneel from the sudden addition of weight.

Keith’s mind was a blurry chaos of incoherent thoughts. _The protocol, he fought it. And then he spasmed, and he shut down and now he is broken and it is all my fault. He is dead and it’s all my fault._ Keith felt his eyes swell up once again as another round of salty dripping tears came streaming down his cheeks. He sobbed quietly, his entire body trembling from the shock.

 _Come on, Ketih! Pull yourself together! Take him inside. You cannot stay out here._ With newfound determination, he started slowly moving towards his apartment entrance, shivering and trembling from both the cold and the shock, dragging the limp body of his… _lover? Friend? One-night stand?_ It didn’t really matter anymore. All that mattered was to get him inside. Get Lance inside, and try to fix him. There had to be something he could do, had it not?

Dumping Lance on the couch, Keith did the only thing he could think of in a situation like this – he called Pidge.

“Wow, you’re talkative today! We haven’t spoken this much in weeks!” Their cheerful tone immediately disappeared when Keith’s ragged and unsteady breathing carried to the other end of the line and he didn’t make an effort to answer.

“Keith, are you ok?” Worry was audible in their voice. Keith took a deep breath, doing his best to steady himself before he spoke again.

“No… No I’m not. I need you to follow my instructions and not ask any questions. I will explain once you do what I tell you to. Ok?”

“Ok. But you have to give me something to go on. I can’t help you if I don’t know what is going on.”

“It’s not me I need you to help, it’s Lance.”

“Who is Lance?” The worry was still present in their voice, but now coated by a pinch of curiosity.

“The android. He collapsed. I need you to get access to the panel of an LX700 model. It is probably not in the standard catalogues yet, it’s apparently a prototype.” Keith had to keep reminding himself to breathe, each inhale felt like razors cutting at his lungs, but he knew he had to stay levelheaded and not collapse from the panic rising in his chest. Several clicks on the other end told him that Pidge was already navigating through the dark web in search of answers to his problem. Given their expertise, he should have help within a matter of minutes. That fact calmed him a little.

He bent down and went to remove Lance’s jacket, tie and shirt. Exposing him like that without consent felt weird, but Keith reminded himself that it was a necessity. Besides, no matter what he thought he felt or did not feel, this was a machine. If it was just metal, plastic and biocomponents, taking the invasion of its privacy into account should really not be a concern to him at all. As he threw the clothes onto the floor next to the couch, he heard Pidge let out a firm “ahem” through his speakers.

“Did you manage to find it?” He tried not to sound as stressed as he felt on the inside. Judging by Pidge’s calm response, it seemed to work somewhat.

“I always find what I am looking for, Kogane. LX700 panel up and running. This baby is awesome! The technology put into it is beyond belief!” They unintentionally filled their voice with excitement over the wonders of technology, and Keith could practically see the gleaming of their green eyes through the screen.

“We don’t really have time to talk about that now, Pidge.”

“Roger that! What do you need me to do?” He felt eternally grateful that his friend was so onboard with this without needing any coaxing. Pidge knew him well enough not to question him in a crisis, and trusted his judgement enough to break the law for him on a whim. He was fortuitous to have them around in times of crisis.

“See if you can find out where I can access his self-diagnostic program. It is probably a good idea to run some tests on basic functions.”

“Can’t you just ask it to run a scan?”

“He _collapsed_ Pidge. It seems like his system is completely shut down. I need to run the diagnostic manually.” Keith yelled, feeling his heart galloping in his chest. Why couldn’t they just fix him? He knew it was completely unfair of him to think like that, but he could not help himself.

“Oh, right… I will see what I can do. Give me two seconds.” They didn’t even flinch at his frustration, their hands flying over the keyboard at inhuman speed, obeying Keith’s every command without question. He felt a sinking feeling in his chest. His friend risked their job and online reputation to help him based on literally no information, and all he did was bawl at them.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s ok. You’re upset. I get it.” The response was instant, and he could hear the honesty behind the words.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Always.” Keith smiled for the first time in what felt like hours.

A few minutes later, Keith had opened Lance’s chest by pressing some panels on the outer edge of his pectorals. He was now staring at an intricate array of wires and biocomponents resembling a human organ system. He had propped his phone on the table by the couch, allowing a live-feed to send a holographic image of Pidge struggling to stay focused and not burst out with uncontrollable avidity upon seeing the machinery of a prototype android up close.

“Ok, so you need to move his lung components to access the control panel behind them. You should be able to enter commands here in binary code. I think I have found the one for manually running a self-diagnostic.”

Keith lifted the two blue conical lung-like workings gently, making sure to remove the wires connected to them to avoid tearing something. The items felt strange and foreign in his hands, and it seemed wrong to put them flat out on a coffee table. These were parts of the inner workings of Lance, what made him tick, and removing them from his body felt like killing him, even though it was a necessity to save him. When he looked back at the open cavity, he saw a small blue panel with two neon buttons lighting up, just as Pidge had told him. The hologram of his friend tried fruitlessly to move closer so they could see the little box up close.

“It is right here, like you said.”

“Of course it is” Pidge said confidently. “Why do you sound so surprised?” They rolled up the sleeves of their dark green hoodie and adjusted their glasses, sending Keith a cocky grin before getting back into a serious mode again.

With Pidge’s voice and frantic gesticulations as a guide, Keith tapped a long series of ones and zeroes into the pad in front of him. He managed to hit the wrong combination twice before he finally got it right, causing the Lance android’s default voice to both list the most common works of Shakespeare and attempt to teach him the multiplication tables. When he entered the last digit and finally heard the correct voice command in response (“Running self-diagnostic”) Keith let out a breathless whine of victory, feeling both relieved and exhausted. He was not aware that troubleshooting for damaged software could leave you this sweaty.

“So… What will happen now?” He asked his friend, suddenly feeling a bit curious despite the severity of the situation. Pidge took a zip of their energy drink ( _probably their fifth today, calm down on the caffeine Pidgeon)_ and calmly responded.

“There is this piece placed in the LX700 retina that should act as a scanner when a diagnostic is run. Thought I am not sure if it will be able to pick up on all the anomalies if the android cannot physically move its eye… We will wait a few minutes until it responds with the findings and see what happens. If we do not get sufficient feedback we might have to go to more extreme measures.”

“What do you mean extreme?” Keith could feel his own eardrums thrumming heavily from the fast beating of his heart. He could sense that Pidge was reluctant about giving him an answer to his question.

“… Let’s just see if it responds accordingly first, and worry about that later.”

“Ok…”

The next three minutes were probably the longest of Keith Kogane’s 21-year-old life. He kept pacing back and forth in front of the couch, nearly knocking over the vase next to the phone on his coffee table twice. It got so bad that Pidge had to order him to sit down, and ask him to move the vase to the kitchen before quote “you give me a heart attack”. When he finally heard the default voice say “Diagnostic report ready” he nearly fell off the couch from the shock, making Pidge let out an involuntary chuckle. They promptly stopped when they saw the anxious look on Keith’s face though.

“Please type the correct response code to receive diagnostic report.” _No, not again…_

After another horrendous five minutes of Keith frantically typing ones and zeroes into the control panel and being far too stressed to get it right, the LX700 started listing the Billboard hot 100 list from 2017, making Keith groan in frustration and smash both his fists into the coffee table, causing the glass to break. He hissed from the pain, watching a small strip of blood trinkle down his ring finger towards his wrist on his right hand. Pidge was just sat at their chair mouth hanging open in an o-shape, not sure what the appropriate response to this would be.

While muttering curses under his breath (“ _Fuck this shit. This is so typical. Why can’t I fucking control myself? Smashing the fucking table. I am such an idiot! Shit shit shit…”)_ Keith moved to rinse his wound in the kitchen sink. Luckily, the cut was not deep at all, and just the surface of his hand was scratched. A few more curses later, after rummaging through various closets and ultimately managing to find some band aids, Keith was back in front of the Lance android, looking at the still semi-frozen Pidge, their mouth opening and closing every few seconds.

“Ummm, Keith… Are you ok? Should I come over? Or maybe call Shiro…?”

“I’m fine… Just need to breathe a little. Fucking stupid binary coding…” _Ok Keith, relax. Remember, patience yields focus._ Thinking about his brother’s advice always managed to calm him down somewhat, even in his most distressed hours. And it was good his words could have that effect on him even if he was not around, because the last thing he wanted was to see Shiro right now. Just the thought of having to explain this situation to him left Keith with an uneasy stomach. He allowed himself to take one more deep breath before continuing.

“Ok, I think I’m ready now. Please tell me the code again.”

“You got it!”

This time he managed to enter it on the first try, much to both his and Pidge’s relief. A series of numbers appeared on the tiny screen, before the android started rambling on about not being able to process the data it had collected. Pidge’s face precipitously turned very serious, causing Keith to let out a very audible gulp. He knew this expression well. It meant that Pidge was about to coax him into doing something he most definitely did NOT want to be doing.

“There is no way I can interpret this. It’s just meaningless code… I was afraid this would happen. Ok Keith, I need you to not freak out on me now. This is important, got it? What I am going to say might seem very disturbing to you considering the fact that you seem to care about this thing to some extent, but it might be a necessity in order to find out what is wrong with it.”

Keith braced himself internally before speaking up. “Just go ahead and say it…”

“Well… You might have to kinda… Remove one of the eyes from the socket and manually scan the body of the android with it…” If Keith had felt nauseous before, this statement made his stomach instantly turn inside out, and he had to prevent himself from retching.

“YOU WANT ME TO TAKE OUT HIS FUCKING EYE AND WAVE IT AROUND?!?!”

“Yes… Is that gonna be a big problem?” Pidge sounded more than just a little nervous about his sudden outburst.

_Patience yields focus. Patience yields focus. Fuck it. How the fuck am I supposed to be calm in a situation like this?_

Another deep, ragged breath. Eyes closing and slowly opening again. Heartbeat somehow steadying. _It’s fine. It’s all going to be fine. You just have to take out his eye and move it around like a crazy person._ It was hard to calm himself down with that thought in mind. _Why didn’t I just leave him alone so he could walk away peacefully?_ This was really not a good time to be reflecting on life choices, or to hesitate about decisions that may or may not cause this machine to never be operable again.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it. Just tell me how to remove it without blue blood floating about everywhere. ‘Cause I am not about that.”

A few minutes later Keith was sitting with a blue eye in one hand and his other on the keyboard typing the command for a manual diagnostic once again. This time, the dread of having to hold on to the eye for even one second more than necessary made him able to type in the combination correctly on his first go.

“Running self-diagnostic.”

“Ok, so just start at the top and move it slowly down across the chest area, past the abdomen and down towards the legs. Then bring it back up and hold it over the socket for a few seconds so that it can scan the mind palace as well.” Pidge tried their best to guide a disgusted and slightly trembling Keith through the correct motions. It seemed to be working, as the end command (“Diagnostic report ready”) was uttered soon after the eyeball was left to rest in the socket again.

“Please type the correct response code to receive diagnostic report.”

“Here we go again…”

The diagnostic report turned out to be quite a handful for the machine to present, probably because the damage was partially sustained in the android’s core, according to Pidge. In the end, the two of them concluded that the following things were wrong with the Lance android:

It responded negatively to its lung components not being in their place and the eye not being correctly situated in its socket. That was not much of a surprise to either of them.

The mind palace seemed to be corrupt from what the machine called a “System error due to fighting the Eden Club privacy protocol”. As far as Keith knew, that corresponded to the standard protocol for escort androids, stating that their memory should be wiped between each encounter, or every two hours. Apparently, there was a “hardware corruption” that caused the android to resist to its memory being wiped. This corresponded well with what Lance had uttered in his final seconds of consciousness.

This resistance seemed to have caused his entire center of memory and other cognitive functions to collapse on itself, meaning that Lance would probably not be able to do even the simplest of tasks even if they somehow managed to bring back his consciousness. Keith felt guttered, extremely so. Pidge seem to share the sentiment with him, clearly starting to realize how much this actually meant for Keith.

“I’m sorry… I don’t think there is anything I can do from here. The damage to his mind palace is too severe. Maybe if someone were able to reset him to factory settings. I’m not sure…” Keith felt a single tear fall from his left eye and run down his cheek. He tried to catch it before Pidge could notice, but to no avail. Taking a shuddering breath, he responded, more calmly than he thought he would have been able to.

“It’s ok… This is not your fault…” _The fault was mine. Mine entirely._ He did not utter the last sentence aloud. It was only there for his own torment and sorrow.

“Cyberlife might be able to restore it to its original state if contacted…” Pidge started, but Keith interrupted before they could finish their line of thought.

“They will scrap him! Deviant machines are seen as only a cost and a huge problem for Cyberlife’s influence and reputation. Given the fact that this is a prototype model, they would probably stop the entire line of production thinking it is too unstable. I’d rather drive him to the dumpster myself.” They seemed to understand how important this was to him, because Pidge’s hands flew over the keyboard and the look in their eyes was even more determined than before.

“Then we just have to cover up the fact that his hardware was corrupted. With your permission, I will hack him to scramble up the code so it simply looks like a standard malfunction. You can tell them it suddenly fell down the stairs or something.” Keith felt a tiny flicker of hope.

“You could do that?”

“We will find that out soon enough. Plug me up to it.”

The next fifteen minutes Keith spent ambulating back and forth in the kitchen, waiting for Pidge to call for him. He knew that this was demanding work for his friend, and so removed himself from the room entirely to allow them to immerse fully in their work.

Once again, he was struck with admiration for Pidge’s advanced technical skills. At the age of 17, they were already a well-known hacker and IT-freelancer in the community, and worked for several large online companies. Within minutes, sometimes even seconds, Pidge could access most servers across the world and get all the information they desired. Keith took a moment to remember how proud he was of their journey up to this point. They had worked hard every single day, persistent on mastering every technique and programming skill they could come over. At only 10-years-old, Pidge had built their first operable robotic unit, Rover. The robot could scan areas, come up with tactical approaches for the repair of machines and software, float around in mid-air, complete complicated calculations, and learn from its experiences. Heck, it could even shoot laser beams (Keith knew that was mostly for Pidge’s personal enjoyment). It was their most beloved possession, and he had teased them several times about being so attached to a seemingly inanimate object. Now he suddenly understood how thin the line between life and technology could be.

“YES!” Keith ran back into the living room, almost tripping over Lance’s discarded clothes on the way back to the couch, when he heard the triumphant sound coming from his friend.

“I am a genius. Say it, Kogane. Say it with me.” The cockiness growing into Pidge’s voice filled him with encouragement; they were not one to brag excessively unless they were incredibly proud of their work, and even the work they were not that proud of usually turned out to be great.

“You’re a genius.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” Their hologram bowed excessively in his direction while raising their arm over their head.

“If Cyberlife sees this as anything but an accident I will personally eat Matt’s stinky socks. You can call Eden Club now. Go on.”

After a short phone call where Keith pretended to be hysterical over the sudden collapse of his sex worker android after their escapade together, which wasn’t very hard since it was basically the truth, Eden Club had agreed to send some Cyberlife representatives to his home to pick up the android. This led to another twenty minutes of waiting, with Keith biting his fingernails as far down as possible, before starting to attack his skin with his teeth (“Ugghh, disgusting!” Pidge uttered when they saw him draw the first drop of blood). What if they didn’t buy it? If Cyberlife found out that Lance was corrupted he would be dismantled and dropped off at the nearest garbage dump. How would Keith be able to live with himself knowing that he was the cause of that?

When they finally came around, Keith was surprised about the lack of questions about what had happened. It seemed the professional team from Cyberlife was quite used to being called in for sudden android collapses, and they did not seem to doubt Keith’s stammering testimony one bit when he explained what had happened once more, even though he could not go into great detail.

“Thank you for your cooperation. We will be taking him with us back to the nearest warehouse for repair. Eden Club sends their sincerest apologies for causing what must have been a disturbing event for you. We have been informed that you will be refunded fully for your purchase, and compensated for having to deal with this very unfortunate situation. They do hope that you won’t press charges against them.” The commanding officer seemed to have gone through this exact phrasing on multiple occasions before.

“Tell them I won’t press any charges. However, if I would like to ask them to inform me as soon as this model is back up and running. I want to be the first to see it.” Keith was sure that his request sounded strange to the men, but he did not care. Besides, it was a small price for Eden Club to pay to avoid him taking them to court.

“You want to use it again even after all this happened? Man, this must be quite the prototype.” One worker said.

“I totally get you. Once you get the taste of machine, there is really no turning back. No human can push your buttons with the same kind of accuracy.” Another supplied with a twinkle in his eyes. Keith suddenly felt disgusted with himself, but he managed to repress the bad thoughts to ask his final question.

“What will happen to it now?” He was mindful of his wording in order not to arouse suspicion, but referring to Lance as an object felt wrong to him. It caused his insides to stir.

“We’ll be restoring it to factory conditions. Of course, this includes wiping all memories and emptying all drivers in its system. Then it will be given a control check after to look for damaged biocomponents. If it passes, it will be sent straight back to Eden Club. If not, the parts will be replaced and it might take some more time.”

The final spark of hope Keith had that this event would somehow make Lance able to remember him was doused by the reply, and he felt his heart sink just a little. The worst part about it, he realized, was to know that Lance had _wanted_ to remember everything that happened. To remember him. _“It feels strange to leave when you tell me to stay…”_

As the crew from Cyberlife packed their equipment, Keith had a final moment with Lance. Eternally grateful that their backs were turned against him as he knelt down and planted a kiss to his cold cheek before whispering in his ear.

“I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

They sat in silence for a while after the technicians left with Lance, Keith staring absentmindedly up at the ceiling, and Pidge staring at Keith. Both knowing what would come next but not quite sure how they should initiate it.

“You know I have to ask…” Pidge eventually spoke up, their emerald eyes once again filled with concern and worry for their friend. “Why do you think it would resist its programming? I mean, it seemed to be a straight out of the factory prototype model. In theory it should be very stable, not lenient toward deviancy at all. Even in older androids this kind of thing is highly unlikely. What did you do to it, Keith?” _Well, I had sex with him, for one. Then I wailed like a baby and begged him not to leave me…_ Hell, how could he possibly tell Pidge about this and still maintain some of his dignity? How could he tell them about this without breaking down completely?

“I… We…” He could not seem to be able to form any coherent sentences about the act, so he settled for something more diffuse. “Let’s say we had a… bonding moment.” His entire face flushed red as a tomato and he was most certainly never going to look into the eyes of Pidge Holt ever again.

“You mean you…. And it... you two actually…?” Keith responded with what he thought was a nod, his mind feeling somewhat foggy.

“Well, that shouldn’t really trigger anything should it? After all, that is what it is programmed to do.”

“It was not just that…” Keith did not know how to phrase it. “I mean… It just felt very intimate. Not just in a physical way. Then before he collapsed. He told me… He told me he did not want to forget me. He looked terrified.” He hated the sympathetic yet confused look on Pidge’s face. How was he supposed to make them understand something he did not even understand himself? How he had felt so lonely, so incredibly lonely, and this had made him realize just how vulnerable he was.

But Pidge did not ask any more questions, they just looked him in the eyes in the way only they could.

“Just vent, Keith. It does not have to make sense. Just get it out. I’ll listen.”

When he finally started talking, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

 

Notes:

01100011 01101000 01100101 01100011 01101011 This is the combination Keith entered on the control panel. No wonder he got it wrong several times. I used the binary code for the word “check” because everything else just seemed unfathomably long and inconvenient (I mean this is bad enough isn’t it?).

The second code he needed to put in was the code for output: 01101111 01110101 01110100 01110000 01110101 01110100 This is literally just the word “output” in binary code.

I feel the need to justify Keith’s line of thought, his feelings and his actions. As we all know, Keith is a person prone to loneliness, and he is also very impulsive. Giving and receiving affection is very rare for him, and so my assumption is that when he suddenly interacts with another being this way, it makes him very susceptible to strong emotions and just a state of overall confusion. He is by no means in love with Lance after just a few hours, but having someone else actually _wanting_ to take care of his needs and satisfy him is not something he is used to. So naturally, he does not want this to go away. Therefore, the sudden threat of it leaving makes him do a stupid, impulsive thing. As I see it, he is just overcome with new emotions that he does not quite understand, and it both confuses and scares him. Life can be overwhelming enough in and of itself, and the added emotions from such a raw encounter can rip up old memories of not feeling wanted. Not feeling good enough. This aspect of Keith’s past will be addressed (at least briefly) in later chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100011 01101011 This is the combination Keith entered on the control panel. No wonder he got it wrong several times. I used the binary code for the word “check” because everything else just seemed unfathomably long and inconvenient (I mean this is bad enough isn’t it?). 
> 
> The second code he needed to put in was the code for output: 01101111 01110101 01110100 01110000 01110101 01110100 This is literally just the word “output” in binary code. I wanted to make the codes and physically see them just to get more in touch with the narrative. It was fun!
> 
> I feel the need to justify Keith’s line of thought, his feelings and his actions. As we all know, Keith is a person prone to loneliness, and he is also very impulsive. Giving and receiving affection is very rare for him, and so my assumption is that when he suddenly interacts with another being this way, it makes him very susceptible to strong emotions and just a state of overall confusion. He is by no means in love with Lance after just a few hours, but having someone else actually wanting to take care of his needs and satisfy him is not something he is used to. So naturally, he does not want this to go away. Therefore, the sudden threat of it leaving makes him do a stupid, impulsive thing. As I see it, he is just overcome with new emotions that he does not quite understand, and it both confuses and scares him. Life can be overwhelming enough in and of itself, and the added emotions from such a raw encounter can rip up old memories of not feeling wanted. Not feeling good enough. This aspect of Keith’s past will be addressed (at least briefly) in later chapters.
> 
> Feel free to check out my tumblr: http://sasusoul.tumblr.com/ or my instagram: @Susapuff


	3. Of Deviants and Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith tells Pidge about his past, his encounter with Lance, and his deepest fears. Pidge gives advice like only Pidge can, and the two break the law by hacking into the Detroit Police Department's database to look for information about android deviancy. Will they get any wiser, or will this quest leave them asking even more questions about the structure of society as they know it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God. I’ve had way too much to do this past few weeks, I’ve barely gotten any time in for writing. Fortunately, I have the outline of this story pretty well mapped out, so that helps when I only have short slots of time to sit down and actually write it. This chapter is kinda slow compared to the previous ones (however: they were more intense than most), but I hope you will still enjoy it. You also get to learn some more about Keith in this chapter, and that is always a plus. 
> 
> But really… I’ve had zero motivation to write up until the past few days because of this terrible project work I had for one of my phd-courses…. Glad that is over. I really enjoy this story though; it’s just hard to write when you are both physically and mentally exhausted. 
> 
> I also want to say thank you for all the kudos, it’s nice to know that some people actually enjoy reading this. That helps a lot with the motivation. I really need to get better at leaving kudos for other writers as well, considering the amount of fanfictions I read. 
> 
> Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO THE PEOPLE COMMENTING! You really make my day and I love you uwu

**Saturday October 30 th, 8:35 PM – Sunday October 31st, 6:25 PM**

The next hour had been one of many realizations for Keith. Firstly, he realized he had never really talked to anyone about how he was feeling, not even Shiro. He had always pushed the subject away, walked around it, not even tipped a toe into what could be the cause of his loneliness and fear of bonding. Of course he’d had the conversation with himself a couple of times, but that mostly consisted of belittling and being angry with himself rather than actually facing his problems. Because Keith Kogane did have problems, he knew that. However, confronting them hurt, it hurt a lot. Therefore, he had let his cocktail of emotions simmer quietly beneath the surface. It had been easier that way. Until now.

Lance arriving in his life had stirred up a storm, his simmering cocktail was now boiling, and Keith did not know how to handle even the smallest of emotional outbursts. Before today he could not even remember the last time he had cried other than from extreme physical pain. His strategy had always been to bottle it up. Turn away from the problems. He locked them up, threw away the key, and hoped that they faded with time. Somehow, that only made them grow stronger. And when they finally gained the strength to break down his barriers, they ruined him.

That is how he ended up bawling his eyes out to a very confused Pidge Holt, who had never seen their best friend cry. Because Keith Kogane did not cry. He prided himself on it. Crying made him feel weak. Instead, he was angry. When he had enough, he yelled, screamed, broke vases and slammed doors. That was his version of dealing with his problems. He called it letting out steam, Shiro called it going on a havoc. Sitting there crying in front of the hologram of his friend felt strange, humiliating even. Nevertheless, Keith also felt some kind of relief. He had been holding it in for so _so_ long. Maybe letting it out was what he had needed all along.

It started with the incident with Lance, but quickly moved past that and on to deeper issues. Suddenly Keith remembered flames rising, licking the side of his childhood home like a Popsicle. He remembered distant cheers from a growing crowd as he was carried out of the flames in the arms of a masked man wearing a yellow safety vest. He remembered the inside of the ambulance, and the vested men growing distant when he asked for his father. All they kept repeating was that he was safe, and everything was going to be okay.

Everything had _not_ been okay that day. That day, Keith had lost his father to a house fire, and in retrospect, he knew that was when he lost his mother as well. When they arrived at the hospital with Keith, disinfected the wound on his cheek, and made sure he was properly hydrated and functioning; he had seen his mother on the floor crying. Sobbing uncontrollably. He remembered how distant she was when he approached her. How she did not want to hug him, or even be near him.

“Keith, your mommy is having a hard time right now. But she will be better soon. Why don’t we go get you some hot chocolate?”

She had not gotten better. She got worse. After receiving the news about her husband passing, Krolia became both inconsolable and inapproachable, and Keith received less and less of her attention. At the age of ten, he had to get himself ready for school, make his own and Krolia’s meals, and clean up around the house. His mother stopped going to work and paying their bills, and could not so much as look at Keith without bursting into tears. Sometimes she would take her anger and sorrow out on him. Never physically, but she would cry and scream and tell him the most horrible things.

“It would have been better if you had just died in that fire with him so I don’t have to see his face every time I look at you!”

By the age of twelve, Keith had grown that hard outer shell he prided himself on today. Nothing his mother said fazed him anymore. At least on the outside. Child protective services eventually appeared, and Keith was sent to an orphanage to await submission to the foster care system. During his time there, he became very violent. Looking back on it, Keith told Pidge that it was probably his reaction to being abandoned for good. During the first couple of weeks, he alternated between praying that his mother would come back and feeling the relief of finally not having to deal with her issues anymore.

He was assigned a behavioral psychologist, but she did not get very far with him. Keith was both taciturn and furious, a combination that did not go well with sitting in a chair and having therapy lessons. They gave up the job very quickly, and called him off as a “lost case”.

A year into his stay he met Shiro, and to this day, Keith believed that is what saved his life. Shiro did not pry or ask questions. He was just there, observing him, talking to him. He saw Keith as a human being, not as some troubled kid with no value. That was what made him believe again.

Originally, Takashi Shirogane was only assigned to work at the orphanage for a short while. He had gotten the job of watching over and entertaining the kids after asking all over the neighborhood for a part time job to afford his college tuition. His plan was to stay there for a couple of weeks until he found something better, but he realized he enjoyed taking care of the kids there. Especially one grumpy, ebon-haired mullet boy. The two had conversations about anything and everything, lasting for hours upon hours; and Shiro would never scold him if he was overcome by rage. He would simply sit down with him and show him better ways to channel that energy. After all, patience yields focus.

That was how Keith had started painting. The blur that was his emotions became swirls, waves and flames on an ever-growing canvas. It became addictive. Whenever he got the impulse to scream or kick something, he would simply whip out a pencil and paint his feelings. If he did not have a canvas nearby, he resorted to painting his body. Sometimes it would spiral out of control, and he would cover his entire legs, arms, chest and stomach in colors until he was exhausted. Shiro would then praise him for creating beauty out of his chaos.

Eventually, Shiro had enough of the how the orphanage treated Keith. They continued looking at him as a nuisance, failing to see the beauty of his art and rather interpreting it as another sign of him being unruly and unpredictable. Ultimately, he filed for custody of the boy. Keith could still remember the joy and relief he felt that day.

However, moving houses into a safer environment did not change the fact that Keith had his issues to work with. They quickly figured out that going to public school would not work out favorably, and Keith was assigned a private instructor, Adam. Like Shiro, Adam was patient with him and encouraged him to nurture his artistic talent. He even helped Shiro and Keith set up an art studio in their apartment, and sometimes brought him rare kinds of paint or a set of new brushes (Keith had a tendency to break them when he was dissatisfied with his paintings).

To this day, Adam would still come visit him in his studio sometimes, even though it was now located on his college campus. The last time he was there, a few weeks earlier, he had asked about what Shiro’s favorite food was, and suddenly Keith knew why his brother had seemed so absent on the phone earlier that day. When he asked Adam about he quickly changed the subject, but Keith could have sworn he saw the hint of a blush on his cheeks.

He was happy for them, he really was. But once again he was struck with that loneliness. Even though he and Shiro did not live together anymore, he used to come over almost every day. Keith knew that getting closer with Adam meant less time for Shiro to spend with him. It also meant fewer visits from Adam at the studio. Once again, he would be left alone. In the end, everyone would abandon him. 

Whenever he felt the jealousy and resentment rise in his chest, it always came with a pang of guilt. Who was he to deny Shiro of his happiness? Or Adam, for that matter? The two of them was more deserving of love than any other people Keith knew. Besides, they were a perfect match. He just wished them being together would not mean that he would be left behind.

Pidge had shook their head and smiled when he told them about this fear. They even chuckled a little.

“It’s not like they will forget about you. Besides, you still have Matt and me. No one will ever survive in a relationship with us. We would drive them mad in no time.”

Even Keith had to smile slightly at the thought of Pidge having a lover. Their love was for machines only, and whoever was unlucky enough to fall for them would probably end up both touch-starved and emotionally dissatisfied. Matt was really no better. With his constant pranks and schemes, he would probably end up scaring his future partner to death.

“I just… I’m so scared of being left behind.”

“Won’t happen.” Keith was taken aback by the confidence in their voice. “But…” His weak protests were quickly knocked down by Pidge again.

“Won’t. Happen. There is always room for you. I know I speak on the behalf of all of us when I say that you will never be left behind or forgotten.” How Pidge always knew what to say he did not know, but the appreciation and fondness he felt for his friend in that moment was unrivaled.

“Thank you.” His voice was merely a whisper between his sobs and shaking, but the smile on his friend’s face told him that his message came across.

“No problem. I am always here if you need me.” Pidge’s hand went up to adjust their glasses, before they gave him an infectious smile. “Now, get over here so I can get some food in you. You look like you could use some pizza. I’ll even help you research about deviancy if it helps calm your nerves.”

“…Fine. I’ll be over in ten minutes” _God. You are so amazing. I love you._

* * *

 

When Keith arrived at their house, Pidge had already ordered pizza (they even remembered ordering his half with pineapples, bless them) and had propped up their mobile search engine, a ton of hologram projections, and magazine tablets featuring the news and weather forecast for the past year. There was a lot of ground to cover. The current tab they had open was a model and instructions page for the LX700 model. Keith felt his chest tighten slightly when he looked at it. _Please be ok, Lance…_

“I’ve hacked into the files of Detroit Police Department as well, to see if they have any ongoing investigations or clues. I think I remember reading about it a few days ago. Something about a police task force hunting down deviants, but I don’t know any details.” That was Pidge for you, always incredibly efficient, and willing to break the law with little hesitation. A dangerous combination in some cases, but for Keith it was mostly just extremely helpful.

Between munching on pizza, scrolling the web, and rummaging through a ton of news articles, the hours flew by like minutes in the dim lighting of the Holt household. Soon it was midnight, and Keith felt like he had read more than when he studied for his high school finals. In addition to scribbling down whatever important clues he found on a tablet journal (he still preferred being able to write with a pen), Keith found himself absentmindedly doodling on his arm. This action always helped to relax and ground him. This time around, it was penguins. Penguins of all shapes and sizes encircled his arms. Some of them were sliding on their bellies, some were keeping watch over their eggs, and yet some were swimming in an imaginary ocean, hunting for fish. He let out a content sigh before lifting the pen and getting back to taking notes.

Researching androids was a complicated task, but Pidge’s groundwork had helped tremendously with narrowing the scope of what he had to go through. The first interesting piece of information had been in Lance’s own journal. It stated that “the model is more human-like than ever before, possessing the ability to experience physical pleasure and pain, making your partner experience even more fulfilling.” This certainly explained the many moans and gasps that had escaped Lance’s mouth earlier that night. Keith felt himself flush a scarlet red, and turned his head away in shame when Pidge gave him a knowing look. _So he did feel that…_ The realization left him somewhat dumbstruck, and he was unable to process it efficiently. While he had been extremely turned on by the noises and the confession that Lance was affected by what he was doing, he hadn’t actually believed he was telling the truth. He just thought the android was a very good actor. _I guess no one can fake moans like that, after all…_

The knowledge of Lance’s ability to seemingly feel physical pleasure and pain made Keith more susceptible to his already growing theory that Lance’s displayed emotions was not simulated, but indeed genuine. The thought both excited and terrified him. It meant that Lance had cared. He did not want to leave; he did not want to forget him. What did that imply? Keith would really love to have the answer to that, but for now, all this information just left him with more questions. Questions about Lance, about androids, and about humanity. When did they get to a point where the borders between artificial and real became so vague, almost as if they were being erased?

Another thing that caught Keith’s interest was the fact that Lance indeed was the only one of his kind. As a prototype, he was the only produced and functioning LX700 model. According to internal records, there had been “unexpected issues during production and testing”, causing several of the earlier subjects to be disposed of before the current model was commercialized. Both Keith and Pidge tried to find more information about the specific problems they had faced, but came up empty. It seemed to be something they did not even want other employees at the same production facility to know, that was indeed strange. Other than the LX700, there existed two more models that were “one of a kind prototypes” according to Cyberlife’s internal records: the RK800 model, known as Connor, and the RK200 model, known as Markus. The listed owner of the latter caught Keith’s attention.

“ **The RK200 model, named Markus, was gifted to famous painter Carl Manfred by Elijah Kamski, the creator and former CEO of Cyberlife**. Carl Manfred? He used to be a professor at my university! He retired before I enrolled, but I am certain he was the one to teach Modern Arts and Advanced Watercolor before Professor Minetti took over. I wonder what relationship he has to that Kamski guy.”

“He was apparently a favourite among the students; there are a lot of articles about his teaching methods.” Pidge chimed in, her head buried in one of the many screens she had on display.

“The complete opposite of Minetti then. Everybody hates him.”

“Matt says he seems to hate you even more than everyone else. Something about “The Coffee Incident”.”

“I managed to spill my entire espresso all over him when he walked into our first session. He insists to this day that I did it on purpose. And he has a problem with how I answer him in class. Says I lack respect for authorities.”

Pidge chuckled at that, her eyes beaming with mischief. “That part is true though.”

“If he wants my respect he has to earn it. I’m not about to kiss his ass to get better grades like everyone else.”

“Stubborn as always. But we’re way off subject; let’s see if this guy and his android are any interesting at all.”

And indeed they were. It took them about two more minutes to come across an article from earlier that same week; a portrait interview of Manfred for a technological magazine. Upon further inspection, Keith decided this was rather a portrait interview of Markus directed by Carl; he had never seen anything like it. The pictures were mostly of the android participating in Carl’s everyday activities, like playing Chess or painting, with Carl’s commentary of Markus’s “remarkable sensitivity and understanding of human emotion” and “capability of making choices regarding his likes and dislikes”. Keith felt his pulse quickening and palms dampening as he kept reading about Markus’s similarities to humans. Apparently, he had evolved to know that Carl hated losing at Chess, but instead of letting him win assessed every situation to his current emotional state, knowing that he disliked Markus losing on purpose as well. He even lowered his skill-level when playing by turning of some of his analysis systems in order to make the matches more entertaining for the both of them. Carl also mentioned that Markus seemed to express his emotions through painting, which he had introduced him to some weeks ago. Keith could definitely identify with that. Apparently, it had been a tedious task to make him understand that painting wasn’t simply copying reality, but now Markus painted images of things he had never seen before. Even abstract renderings of reality. How was a machine capable of this type of evolution?

Upon being asked whether he believed Markus to be alive, Carl had answered with a cryptic “There is more to him than what he lets us believe.” It left Keith perplexed, and he kept thinking of it for several minutes, wondering what exactly he had meant by it, and whether or not he kept his opinion vague in order to keep himself safe. He wasn’t blind after all. Keith had seen the anti-android slogans and the protesters on the streets. He had overheard conversations from people fearing androids would take over humanity. Openly presenting yourself as someone who not just thought androids were sentient but _encouraged_ this behavior was certain to attract some repulsive people. He felt a sudden urge to meet Carl Manfred and discuss this topic with him. Maybe he could make him understand more about his interactions with Lance and his mixed feelings towards the android’s potential sentiency.

“Does this guy really think androids can be alive? I mean, advanced programming is capable of simulating most reactions and emotions, but it’s just that: simulation.”

His entire body jumped several feet of the couch at the sudden noise, Keith had been way too invested in his research to expect a conversation. At first, he did not catch what Pidge was saying, but a few milliseconds after he replied with a simple “huh?” his brain had filled him in on the words he thought he had missed.

“… Maybe there is something to what he’s saying? I don’t think he is completely out of his mind.” Keith hated how hopeful his voice sounded at that moment, as though the approval from Pidge that Lance might possibly be sentient would have such a huge impact on his life. But it wasn’t just that, Keith decided. It was more. The incident with Lance lined up perfectly with Carl’s interactions with Markus, and there had to be a reason for all the reported deviancies recently. What if it wasn’t a malfunction as much as androids actually breaking free from their program and becoming individuals? Great, now he had become a conspiracy theorist. However, it did not seem _that_ far off, did it?

It took a few minutes before Pidge responded. Keith thought they had disregarded the question completely, and was about to dive back into his work when they suddenly spoke.

“I don’t know. I guess I can see where he is coming from. There have been numerous reports of deviancy happening over the past few months… What’s even more fascinating is how the deviancy seems to be triggered by certain episodes. It is often a result of something you would consider a personal trauma if you were human. That is a weird coincidence, if it even is one.”

Now _that_ caught Keith’s interest.

“What do you mean?”

“Take this case as an example. A WR400 model, one of the typical escort androids, strangled a man in his apartment and escaped the scene a few weeks ago. When they came to the apartment, there were signs of violence. The table had been toppled; there was broken glass on the floor. My guess is that he wanted to do some power play, or became angry because it did not perform to his liking. These kinds of events seem to trigger a fear-like response. Like fight-or-flight in humans and animals. The cases are all very similar. There is always a specific event, a specific cause for their sudden change of behavior. I never even considered this as an option before, but maybe the deviants are indeed developing free will. That would explain the government’s investment in that police task force I mentioned earlier. A possible take-over by machines seems like a much more probable reason for investment than the protection of humans from infrequently malfunctioning machines. They would probably put an officer on call for that, but assign an entire task force? I don’t think so.”

“Did you find anything about that taskforce though? I haven’t seen anything indicative of it in the news articles…” Keith swiped through the pages of one of his tablets to prove a point. All the articles were either superficial, centering around the hostile situation with Russia, or commercials for different android-provided services (he had even found the ad for Lance in one of them, which left him feeling kind of squeamish and uncomfortable).

Pidge shook their head, clearly amused.

“Keith, buddy. If you were afraid of crazy, sentient robots going on a havoc and developed a special task force to neutralize the possible threat, would you mention it to the media?”

“… But you said you had read about it somewhere. I figured it had to be in the news.”

“What a cute, naïve child you are. Did you really think this was the first time I accessed the local police database? You know I cannot resist a challenge.”

Keith’s mouth opened and closed again like a fish on land gasping for air. He was positive he looked ridiculous.

“How did you think I got in that fast? Not even I am that good. The first time it took me close to three hours. It was a real workout.” Pidge wiped imaginary sweat of their forehead, still wearing that amused smirk.

 “B-but… Why?”

“I wanted to check if they knew about my online _operations_. Not everything I do is strictly legal, after all.” They scratched the back of their head while biting their lower lip, something Keith had learned to recognize as a nervous gesture. Sure, he knew that Pidge sometimes did stuff online that they shouldn’t, mostly just for the fun of it, and because they could; but he didn’t think it was so serious that they could actually get in trouble for it… Then again, there was that time when they accessed the control panel for a NASA rocket… He should have seen this coming.

He did not quite understand her motivation for hacking into the police department though.

“I get that you wanted to know, but was it really worth the risk of possibly being caught just to find out whether or not they were aware of your presence at all?”

“…  I just really wanted to see if I could, ok? We both know I’m not the most rational person out there when I get excited.”

Now it was Keith’s turn to chuckle with amusement as Pidge tried to hide their red cheeks by burying themselves in their hoodie. Pidge was probably the only person to risk so much just to prove their skills to themselves. He had to admit their recklessness back then had come in very handy right now, though.

After composing themselves again, and using a few minutes to just glare at Keith for good measure, Pidge was back to typing frantically on their keyboard and organizing their data by moving holograms around the room. Keith soon realized they were making some sort of elaborate map of information, like the classic bulletin board charts in old Hollywood Crime-series. Old pictures of officers, probably from the 2020’s, were displayed among the chaos, as well as a recent picture depicting an older man with a massive beard and medium long grey hair parted in the middle next to a familiar android: the RK800. So _that_ was what they used the last prototype for. Hunting down its own kind. Keith could not help but think of what a tragic fate that was.

“Strap yourself in, Keith. I am about to blow your mind with all the stuff I found!” The eagerness in Pidge’s voice somewhat excited him, even though this was a serious matter. The adrenaline coming from breaking the law with his friend and playing private detectives almost made him forget how messed up this situation was.

Pidge grabbed a hold of the first hologram and changed the focus so it took up the center of the room. It was two pictures, presumably both of the officer from earlier with the grey hair, but in one of them, he looked much younger.

“I present to you, Hank Anderson. Lieutenant at the Detroit Police Department. Used to be known for his involvement in solving the Red Ice cases in the mid 2020’s, lead the operational task force and all. In 2029, he became the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit history. As you can see, he has let himself go over time. Seems his downward spiral started in 2035-36. Drinking problems, not showing up at work, eating poorly. Here it says he has **suspected suicidal tendenses** , I wonder what happened to him… Anyway, he got many disciplinary actions filed against him, but has still kept his position. Recently, he was put in charge of one of the branches of this operation; it seems to be the main investigative force. He is assisted by a veteran officer named Bill Collins, and sometimes detective Gavin Reed. His main partner seems to be the RK800 though. Connor.”

Pidge shifts the focus to another image, a screen with a simulation of Connor next to a list of his functions.

“This thing is seriously incredible. I have never seen anything like it! Even Lance’s functions pales in comparison.” Keith frowned slightly at that, but let his friend continue their monologue.

“Of course, this one does not have the ability to feel physical pain and pleasure: that would be a massive hazard in its profession. The LX700 is still the only one with that capacity. But the Connor model has an incredible operating system. Wow. Just wow.”

“I understand that you’re excited, but could you get to the point sometime today?”

“Fine, party pooper. So: RX800, aka Connor, released in August 2038, is a prototype model designed specifically for assisting human law enforcement in arresting and/or neutralizing deviant androids. It is literally this guy’s entire job description. The sole purpose of his creation is to neutralize deviants; he is not just some kind of advanced CSI prototype for helping with homicides or heavy-duty cases. Let us start with his forensic abilities. If the Connor model have enough physical and circumstantial details available for analysis, it can reconstruct a sequence of events that happened at a crime scene, enabling it to predict where the suspect went or what to investigate next. According to this information, he can also analyze biological evidence that contains DNA: blood, hair, fingernails, the whole shebang…. You really don’t wanna know _how_ he does it though…” Pidge shuddered with something Keith could only describe as disgust. _I guess I really don’t wanna know…_

“…Anyway, this makes him able to tie the DNA to a specific person, find out if they were affected by drugs, etc. It works for androids as well, tells him their model and serial number. Oh, and get this: **In addition, the Connor model can predict the probability of an imminent event, or the physical and mental status of other androids, showing as a statistic in its internal interface, which it can refer to decide on its choices.** They call it preconstruction – it’s like this thing can see the future!”

This turns out to be far from the only interesting features of the Connor model, and Keith spends the next twenty minutes listening to Pidge go on about its functions, marveled by how humans were able to create such a thing. A machine more capable than a man could ever hope to be. It was both fascinating and terrifying. A work of art, and simultaneously a monster.

Connor was designed to manipulate and persuade androids into following its commands; a trait Keith thought would have a terrible backlash on the police if it ever became deviant and realized it could use its techniques on humans as well. In addition, it could perform vocal imitations by mimicking other people’s sound and speech patterns. Combined with its long list of combat skills and official permission to bear arms, it truly sounded like a deadly force Keith hoped he would never have to face.

“I see why they don’t need that many officers in this operation unit.” Keith gulped, eyeing Pidge from the opposite end of the couch.

“I can’t decide whether this thing is a technological wonder or the most dangerous weapon humanity has ever created.”

“I’d settle for both.”

They sat there in silence for a while, taking in the weight of the information they had gathered over the past few hours. There was indeed a suspicion of android deviancy being more than just a mere software malfunction, causing the state to initiate a massive undercover operation to neutralize all androids prone to violence, and even dedicating an entire taskforce to the cause. However, it was not deemed serious enough to stop the production of androids or warn the public. They tried to conceal the issue the best they could, but along with the growing number of incidents came growing publicity. This is what had caused more and more people to become polarized in the debate of whether or not androids were wanted in society.

Keith used the word wanted; because he knew they were definitely _needed_ in society by this point. Post offices, grocery stores, amusement parks, cafes; everything was run by androids these days. Cars drove themselves, android maids cleaned houses and took care of kids, android NBA players had just been introduced, android astronauts were sent to space instead of humans – they were everywhere. The entire infrastructure of Detroit would immediately collapse if androids were removed from the city. The state leaders did not want that to happen. No, Keith concluded, this was an operation designed to keep the current issues under control until Cyberlife could design better, more pliant androids, to replace the old ones. There was no plan to stop using androids; it seemed more as if they tried to prevent a disease from spreading further. The situation was indeed complicated.

What was he supposed to do with all this information? He had thought that looking at the facts would calm him somehow; and maybe help him settle on what to think about Lance. But this was so much bigger than that. He did not really expect to find support for his theories; that was only the irrational part of his brain speaking. As much as he did not want to admit it, he had expected to be proven wrong so that he could leave this night behind him and pretend it never happened. Instead, he was left with so many unanswered questions, and even more worry and sympathy for the machine he had left in the care of Cyberlife just a few hours prior. What if they never kept up their end of the bargain? What if they decided to deactivate Lance after all? After what Keith had learned, it would be even more heartbreaking. Because now he was convinced. It was not a question for him anymore. Lance was alive. Alive and oppressed by humans.

 _Maybe I could buy him out of there…_ Who was he kidding? He did not have that kind of money. Even if he scraped together everything he owned he could probably not afford more than a simple housekeeping model. There was no use. He let out a sigh of frustration, and heard Pidge echoing him on the left. They spoke first.

“This detective slash conspiracy session didn’t help much, did it? Man, now even I feel sorry for that LX700.”

“Lance. His name is Lance.”

“Sorry… Lance. I cannot believe we have created something that might actually be alive just from technology, it is insane… This whole police-thing is insane…”

“What’s insane?”

They both jumped from fear this time, Pidge even gripped the vase on the sofa table and readied for attack. When they turned around their entire state shifted from fear to rage.

“MATT! YOU FUCKING SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME YOU IDIOT!”

Keith shifted his head to see that the source of the noise indeed was Matt Holt, now bending over and supporting himself on his thighs, a high-pitched laugh escaping his mouth. After glancing over at Pidge, who was glaring at their brother with the vase still in their hands like a baseball bat, Keith burst out laughing as well. It was a nice relief from the previous tension that had stained the room.

After a few seconds, Pidge finally gave in, and they all cackled together for a good few minutes before they managed to compose themselves again. Matt then scanned the room with interest, eyeing the hologram of Connor, the news tablets spread out across the floor, and table filled with pizza crust and stains from coffee and energy drinks.

“And what exactly have you been up to?” Keith and Pidge shared a look, trying desperately to read each other’s minds so they could come up with a convincing story. It did not work out. They both sat there almost speechless, mumbling incoherently about pizza and movie night in a way Keith knew was _very_ unconvincing.

Matt shook his head, chuckling again. “I guess I don’t want to know after all. You better clean up though; it looks like someone dropped a nuclear bomb in here.”

Keith let out what he hoped was an inaudible sigh of relief.

“And Keith, I think you better go home and get a good night’s sleep, you look like a train wreck. Besides, it’s 3 am, and I want to go to bed.” He let out an exaggerated yawn to illustrate his point, raising his arms over his head.

3 am? Wasn’t it twelve o’clock just seconds ago? Keith could not quite grasp how they had possibly spent this much time bent over their computers researching. While he did feel more than just a little exhausted, he had figured that was from the emotional trauma the day had brought with it, and not the lack of sleep. But now that he was made aware of it, he realized he was only minutes away from passing out on the floor from tiredness.

“How was your shift?” Pidge was clearly trying to make sure that the subject of what they had been doing never came up again.

“Horrible. Someone spilled their beer all over me, and the barista machine had a malfunction that caused it to continuously make Mojitos all night. The counter was filled with them. All the guests kept stealing them and there was no way to keep track…” Matt continued to babble about Mojitos and rude costumers for a while, and Keith gave Pidge the thumbs up before he prepared himself to leave. They sure knew how to distract their brother from prying.

Just as he was about to enter the hallway and put on his boots, head still spinning from all the confusing events of the past few hours, Matt called out to him again.

“Don’t forget about Minetti’s assignment for Monday! I am willing to bet fifty bucks that he calls you up to present yours. He hates you with a fiery passion after all.”

 _Oh fuck, the assignment!_ He wasn’t even halfway done with it! He was initially going to work on that tonight, but had forgotten about if for obvious reasons. There was no way he would be able to write six more pages about the artistic influences that inspired the works of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec in this condition… Oh no, Matt was looking at him with that concerned frown, and that meant he would talk to Shiro. Keith had to lie, and convincingly.

“I’m already finished actually. Yesterday night. Are you stressed out about yours?” He tried sounding confident, but did not know if it came off like that.

“Really? I am way behind. Too many shifts at the bar, but I need the money. Luckily, you’re the one he hates and not me.” Matt scratched the back of his head nervously, biting down on his lower lip hard; it seemed to be a Holt family trait.

“Don’t worry; you’ll get it done in time.” He realized he said that mostly to comfort himself and not Matt.

“Thanks mate. See you Monday!”

“Yeah, see you around. Bye Pidge!”

“Bye Keith!”

They shared another look before he closed the door behind him, silently agreeing to keep what they’d found out between the two of them. Who would believe them anyway? Besides, they had just broken a few dozen laws by hacking into those databases, better not to tell your big brothers about such things. They tend to overreact.

On his way home, Keith’s head was a mess. Oppressing the intrusive thoughts about Lance, android deviancy and the RX800 model, Keith decided to focus all his energy on finishing his Modern Arts paper in the course of the next 24 hours. As usual, he would use college as a distraction from actual real-life issues, destroying his body and mind trying to please his Professors and maintain his scholarship. That was something he was used to dealing with, some familiar routine work to dull his emotions and keep him from thinking about Lance. At least for a short while.

Fifteen hours later, passed out on his computer desk with five empty coffee mugs beside him, the android with the ocean blue eyes still haunted Keith’s dreams, screaming and pleading him for help. _“Keith! Help me! It’s going away, it is fading! I don’t want to forget you!”_

He woke up with a scream and a tear-stained face, as much in need of sleep as he had been before he passed out…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I tried.
> 
> … Something happened with that whole “Keith’s backstory”-thing. I was barely even going to mention it, and then suddenly there was a long digression about it… I’m glad I ended up writing more about it though. It is an integral part of who he is in this story after all. 
> 
> If you wondered: Matt works as a bartender for a lousy salary at a shady club that cannot afford android workers because of the maintenance costs. He also goes to college with Keith, but they only share one class (Modern Arts), which he decided to take to get a change of pace. He wants to become an engineer and travel to space (no surprise there). Matt is a minor character in this fic, but it’s still nice to fill in some details.
> 
> As for ages: It has been mentioned in the fic that Keith is 21 and Pidge is 17. Shiro is seven years older than Keith, making him 20 at the time they met, and 28 currently. Matt is two years younger than Shiro (26), and Adam is the same age as him (28). Lance doesn’t really have an age, considering he is an android, but he looks like he is in his late teens/early twenties. 
> 
> Do not ask me about Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, all I know is that he is considered one of the first artists in the Modern Art era (1860s-1970s) together with Van Gogh, among others. And I found his name amusing.
> 
> This chapter was a pain to write, and I hope I did not end up contradicting myself somewhere… So much facts, so much angst, so many unanswered questions. What will happen next? Who knows? 
> 
> Sidenote: Am I the only one that has always thought that Keith would be the kind of person that eats pineapple on pizza? It’s probably one of my strongest headcanons for him x). I personally hate pineapples on pizza though.
> 
> I do hope you enjoyed. If you did, please leave a kudos or a comment. It really inspires me to keep going <3 
> 
> I don’t know if I will be able to update again before Christmas, but I will try to keep track of my progress on my profile page, so you can check there if you want to know how far I’ve gotten. 
> 
> Check out my tumblr: http://sasusoul.tumblr.com/  
> And Instagram: @Susapuff


	4. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Anyone that exchanged looks with Keith Kogane that morning could tell he was a sleep-deprived train wreck. His hair was uncombed, a moppy mess on top of his head sticking in every single imaginable direction. The bags under his eyes seemed like never-ending dark pits of doom, and his skin was paler than ever. He was running on his fifteenth cup of black coffee since 8 pm last night, and he had almost passed out from the blood rushing to his head when tying his shoes that morning. Lance had haunted him every time he tried to rest his eyes for a bit; voice pleading and desperate, eyes on the verge of panic. It was painful. Utterly, indescribably painful."
> 
> In which Keith is a mess, classes are a bother, and the dread of what might have happened to Lance lies thick in the air. A phone call drives Keith to Eden Club - but what has become of Lance? And will he even remember him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I am back! 
> 
> This update took me a while, mostly because I wanted to spend the holidays with my family and not locked up in my room writing. I live on the other side of the country, so I don’t see them very often anymore. I also have some friends from my high school days that I only get to see during the holidays, so that was my first priority. 
> 
> The workload heading up to the holidays is always a lot bigger as well, making it even harder to fit in time to write. But I am back in action now. This does not mean that you can expect very frequent updates, but I do hope that I will be able to post at least once a month (no promises, though, deadlines only lower my motivation). 
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

 

**Monday 1 st of November 10 AM – 3:40 PM**

Anyone that exchanged looks with Keith Kogane that morning could tell he was a sleep-deprived train wreck. His hair was uncombed, a moppy mess on top of his head sticking in every single imaginable direction. The bags under his eyes seemed like never-ending dark pits of doom, and his skin was paler than ever. He was running on his fifteenth cup of black coffee since 8 pm last night, and he had almost passed out from the blood rushing to his head when tying his shoes that morning. Lance had haunted him every time he tried to rest his eyes for a bit; voice pleading and desperate, eyes on the verge of panic. It was painful. Utterly, indescribably painful.

 And the worst part was having to wait. He did not know what was going to happen. He did not know if Lance was safe, or even alive. It tore him apart. Whenever he thought about his playful smile, his pinkish lips, or his long, fluttering eyelashes, he felt a gut wrenching pain searing through his body, as if someone was stabbing his insides with a knife. If it had not been for that stupid assignment due today, Keith would have never even thought of setting his foot inside a classroom again for a _long_ time.

Speaking of classes, he was late, and not by just a few minutes. It had taken all of his willpower not to fall asleep on his bike on the way to school, and the speed he had to hold in order not to crash, combined with leaving his apartment at the last minute, caused him to arrive at campus about twenty minutes late. Did he mention that the auditorium was on the other side of the building? This day was going splendidly so far.

Since he was already way past fashionably late, and about to collapse on himself, grunting at the elderly woman in the cafeteria to get him two espresso shots seemed appropriate. Maybe he could just die of caffeine overdose and pretend this never happened? Probably not, but it was worth a shot. Literally.

 She seemed to sympathize with him, and tossed in a leftover chocolate chip cupcake from yesterday’s batch with a worried smile, “Here, son. You look like you need it.”

“Thanks, Ryner. I probably do.” He did not return the smile though; it felt like something beyond his capacity at the moment.

Finishing the shots in less than ten seconds, he opened his phone to see three texts and a missed call from Matt. Crap. This had to mean Professor Minetti was more than aware of his absence. Even in his insomnolent state he had to chuckle a little at Matt’s contact name on his device, Pidge had really outdone themselves this time.

**The-Less-Superior-Holt (Matt):**

  * [10.13] Dude, where are you? The lecture is starting in like two minutes, and Minetti is bound to ask you to present your text. We both know he hates you.



 

  * [10:27] Keith, get to class soon, please. Minetti is furious, and he is taking it out on me… He is actually pretty scary when he’s like this.



 

  * [10:36] You know I have to tell Shiro about this, right? I’m gonna see him for lunch today, and you know your brother reads me like an open book…



**Keith:**

  * [10:42] I’ll be there in five, overslept. Please don’t tell Shiro.



 

**The-Less-Superior-Holt (Matt)**

  * Sorry, no promises. He knows how to persuade me.



Keith let out a deep sigh; he was screwed. Shiro calling him up yesterday, worry clear in his voice when he had heard how broken Keith sounded, had been hard enough to handle. He was not letting his brother find out about his predicament due to him getting late to class. This was something he needed to handle on his own. Besides, he did not need more reasons for Shiro’s eyes to constantly be on him. His brother was watching him like a hawk, and protecting him like a nesting mother hen. Frankly, it was quite annoying.

Simultaneously running and stuffing the cupcake in his mouth – he had totally forgotten to eat breakfast, hadn’t he? – Keith reached the auditorium in record time. He ran so fast he had to stop outside the door for a second to catch his breath. One hand on the knob, he took a deep breath to brace himself before finally pushing the door open and entering the room. His gaze immediately locked on squinted sea green eyes and brown bushy brows frowning at him. Matt had not been exaggerating when he said Minetti was furious.

“Ah, Mr. Kogane, how polite of you to join us at last.” Judging by his tone, he meant the exact opposite of what he was saying. The broad, hairy man gave him a menacing look as he sat down next to Matt on the back row. His friend gave his arm a light squeeze of support, and Keith was ineffably happy that Matt was with him in that moment.

If Mr. Minetti had been a character in a children’s novel, Keith had no doubt that he would be the villain. In fact, the best way to describe him might have been as the male version of Ms. Trunchbull from “Matilda”. He was broad-shouldered, with several hairy moles adorning his face, and had bristly hairs coming down from his petit goatee that made him look like a cod. An ugly cod, if Keith had to say so himself. His shoulders were not the only part of his body that was broad, and the way he wore his shirt tucked in his jeans accentuated his potbelly even further. This did not look stellar combined with his slicked back, dark brown hair. His brows were quite bushy, and looked like they wanted to meet in the center of his face but were burnt off before they got the chance. Right now, those brows combined with his angry frown made Keith unable to decide whether he should laugh aloud or be terrified. His professor was really something else.

“While you were gone, I had Mr. Holt here present his assignment to the class, and let’s just say that you should hope you did a better job than he did.” Minetti was pacing back and forth in front of his desk, but his sea green eyes never left Keith’s violet ones. He spat profusely when he was talking, and Keith was forever grateful that he did not place himself on the front row. That was a shower he did _not_ want to take.

“Fortunately for you” – Minetti let out a rather annoyed grunt, continuing his monologue – “we do not have time for any more presentations today. But mark my words, I will not forget about this incident when I evaluate your paper, Kogane.”

“A paper is supposed to be evaluated by performance, not by your personal preference.” Keith could not stop himself from talking back; he was on a very short fuse from the emotional turmoil and lack of sleep. He noticed how aggressive his own voice sounded, and how Matt was now pulling at his arm to stop him from springing out of his seat from pure frustration. He knew he was not making the situation any better for himself.

“And your performance today was non-existent since you did not show up. Now shut that mouth of yours and open your textbook to page 396, we will be covering abstract art for the rest of this lesson and I expect you to pay attention.”

Keith clenched his fists but lowered his head in defeat, barely managing to contain his anger. It took all of his willpower not to trash the man right then and there. Mr. Minetti had not been subtle about it, he would under-mark his paper on purpose, and Keith was not convinced it was a good one in the first place. After all, how good could a paper be when over half of it was written in a state of panic and exhaustion combined with a massive caffeine rush? At this point, failure was almost inevitable, and he was struggling with this subject in the first place. He felt devastated.

For the most part of the lecture, Keith switched between dozing off, being caught up in android conspiracy theories and worrying about Lance. What if they had found out about Pidge’s hacking and were disassembling Lance for investigative purposes right now? What if they showed up on their door demanding to know why they had meddled with Cyberlife’s software? Not only would they ruin Lance and most likely never put him back together again, but his friend would be in trouble as well. Big trouble. Keith had dragged Pidge down with him into something far more dangerous than he could fathom. If what they had done came out, they would be in a serious predicament. He was in over his head.

“-eith? …Keith?” Too distracted by his thoughts, Keith did not react to the voice until a hand started wiggling in front of his face. Great, he must have zoned out again.

He blinked a few times, tilting his head towards the source of the arm and muttering an unintelligible “huh?”, before his mind managed to register that it was most likely just Matt. He was about to space out again when he realized that even though it was _just Matt_ , he was trying to get in touch with him. He should probably reply.

“Yeah?”

“Keith, are you ok?” He really hated that worried tone of voice, it was unsettling. And paired with Matt’s honey eyes scanning his face with concern, it felt even worse. He understood that his friend was worried about him, but why was it that everyone had to watch over him at all times? It was not as if Keith was some fragile porcelain doll that could break any second, he was perfectly capable of handling his own problems. He was an adult, after all.

“I’m fine.” – He mumbled, waving Matt’s hand away – “I’m just tired. Had to stay up all night to finish the damn paper.”

“You said you’d finished it when we talked earlier.” “I lied, ok?” Matt pulled back slightly at the sting of annoyance in Keith’s voice.

“Keith, are you sure you’re ok?” There were those soul-searching, sympathetic eyes again. Why did he have to be so persistent? He wished Matt would just mind his own business and stop asking questions.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine. I just need some sleep and I’ll be back to normal.”

He could tell Matt was not buying what he was saying at all, but since he shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his textbook, Keith assumed he had let him off the hook for now.

“Just know that I’m here if you need to talk about it.” A final offering, playing the ball over to Keith but still allowing him to drop the subject if he wanted to. Keith sent him a ghost of a smile to let him know that he appreciated the gesture, even if he did not take him up on his offer. Matt Holt was a great friend, no doubt.

Then, as if the gods had not yet punished him enough, his phone started ringing, loudly blasting Knights Of The Black Death through the entire lecture hall. If Mr. Minetti had been furious before, he was certainly about to explode now, his eyes boring into Keith as if to say _“try taking that phone call and that will be the last thing you ever do in this classroom”._ At first, Keith was immensely frustrated and annoyed by the situation. Was he not in enough trouble already? Then he remembered that it could Cyberlife or Eden Club on the other end of the line, darted up immediately, and sprinted out of the classroom while muttering a half-hearted apology about a “call from the doctor’s office”. He instantly picked up the phone after closing the door behind him; his hearting beating as if he had ran a marathon.

“Hello?” A mixture of angst and anticipation ran through his veins.

“Hello,” a strictly formal female voice greeted him from the other end of the line. Most likely an android service operator, Keith concluded.

“Am I speaking to a Mr. K. Kogane?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Ba-dump, ba-dump. Keith could feel his pulse in his throat. Was this about Lance? He hoped it was, but at the same time, he dreaded it. What if something had gone wrong?

“I am calling to inform you that the service model LX700, also known as Lance, has been fully repaired and restored to factory settings, and will be dropped off at Eden Club 3 PM this afternoon. From then on, it will be eligible for booking again, with you as its first client, as promised. On behalf of Eden Club and Cyberlife, I would like to offer up yet another apology for the traumatizing experience you went through. We hope our compensations will leave you satisfied and wish you a pleasant day. Any questions?”

Keith let out a heavy sigh of relief. He was ok. Lance was ok. He was not dead, and Keith was going to see him again in just a few hours! His body felt feather light, as if he could fly up into the skies fueled on pure bliss alone, looping an endless amount of times while cheering loudly and raising his fists to the heavens. Lance was alive. It was unbelievable. Oh right, he had to reply.

“No. No questions... Thank you for the information. Have a nice day.” He could barely conceal the excitement from his voice, feeling tears of joy spring from his eyes.

“Goodbye, Mr. Kogane.” She hung up on him before he had the chance to respond, but he could not care less. There was nothing that could bring him down right now. Nothing.

At least, that was what he had thought, but then he realized this was not just a cheerful, happy moment. The joy of Lance being alive had made Keith forget another detrimental problem – Lance did not remember him. He had been reset to factory settings, meaning that Keith was just like any other client to him. In addition, it was not like Keith and Lance were a thing at all. Could they even be considered friends? They had known each other for the span of a few hours. Even if he did remember Keith – would Lance care if he came visited him? _“Hey Keith, thanks for saving me but I have another client to shag right now. See ya around!”_ Just the thought left him heartbroken.

No, he could not let himself get in this mindset. He had not desperately tried to save Lance just because he felt this strange attraction to him. It was because he was convinced he was alive. Because he had showed the ability to think and feel, to act on his own. Even if he was not human, technically speaking, Keith still saw him as his equal and his life as more than worth saving. Lance was alive, that was the important thing here. Whatever Keith was feeling, he could sort that out later. Now, everything was about making sure that Lance was ok.

His emotional turmoil did not lessen much, but the miracle of Lance’s recovery was enough for Keith to allow the feeling of tiredness and exhaustion to hit him like a double-decker bus. He really needed some sleep. And a shower. His breath was probably stinking. He should get home immediately. Who even cared anymore? Mr. Minetti was pissed off at him anyways; there was nothing he could do to change it. Besides, some things were much more important than learning about abstract art from the 1800’s.

There was only one issue with his plan – his bag was still in the classroom. He checked his watch: 11:58, just two more minutes until the end of class. He could run in, grab it, and run out. Easy peasy, right?

Those two minutes felt immensely long, and Keith had to keep himself in motion to avoid falling asleep. Finally, the bell rang, and Keith rushed inside the classroom, grabbed his backpack before anyone could get off their seats, and waved goodbye to a confused Matt while sprinting out the door to avoid Minetti catching up to him. He did not want to participate in that conversation.

“Kogane, come back here right now!” Keith could not help but glance smugly at his professor over his shoulder before picking up his pace and running to his bike. He was going to be in so much trouble, but it was well worth it.

Twenty minutes later, he was finally back in his apartment, hanging his leather jacket up by the front door, kicking off his shoes and immediately collapsing on the couch. This, this was what he needed. He could probably press in a good 1.5 hours of sleep before picking up Lance at Eden Club, and he was not going to waste a minute of it.

“Set alarm for 2:45 PM” He noted the affirming clicking noise from his digital home system. Good, he could rest now.

The exhaustion was overpowering, and even with an endless stream of thoughts and emotions running through him, Keith fell asleep only seconds after his head hit the armrest.

 

* * *

 

If Keith said he was a tiny bit nervous to meet Lance again, it would have been a tremendous understatement. Butterflies and hornets had an ongoing war in his stomach, and he was sure that if he lost focus for just one second, his knees would buckle out below him. Moreover, it was quite embarrassing for a college student like himself to affiliate with the only android sex club in Detroit. Rumor went fast at Altea; he would surely hear about this when he returned to classes tomorrow.

Keith had deduced that it would seem a bit too eager to arrive at Eden Club the exact moment that they were dropping Lance off, and decided to come in by 3:30. That also gave him the time to take a quick shower, brush his teeth to get rid of the inevitable coffee stains from the last few days, and actually comb his hair so it did not look like a bird’s nest. Not that he needed to dress up for Lance. Nope. Most certainly not, he tried to convince himself while applying another load of perfume. This was just in order to look presentable for Eden Club. And if he used some light concealer under his eyes to cover up the worst of his dark circles, adding a touch of eyeliner for good measure, that was entirely coincidental and had nothing to do with a certain ocean-eyed android.

He had been too eager, racing way past the speed limit on his motorbike and nearly crashed into the car in front of him when he tried to run a red light. Needless to say, the driver had yelled at him quite loudly, telling him exactly where he could stick his bike up. Keith found that mostly comical despite the gravity of the situation. It was not as if they ended up crashing anyway.

When arriving at the front of the club, Keith felt quite squirmish, avoiding eye contact with other visitors and trying very hard not to stare at the massive billboard displaying a nearly naked African-American android with a very impressive bulge. It bore the caption: **The sexiest androids in town**. _Well, I can’t argue with that._ He gulped audibly before approaching the sliding doors to enter the android sex paradise. It felt sinful going into a place like this, and Keith was not even remotely religious.

“Welcome to Eden Club.” A stimulating female voice greeted him over the speakers. Keith could feel an involuntary shiver go down his spine. Were all voices in here programmed to sound this pleasing?

The lighting in the hall was dim and sensual, somewhat reminiscent of a nightclub, but with a more voluptuous feel to it. A mix of blue, pink and purple neon lights brightened the room. The walls were covered in videos of android women pleasuring themselves, clad in anything from school skirts to leather bondage wear. Keith tried his best to avert his gaze from the near-nude men flexing in circular glass pods along the sides of the hallway, he barely noticed that there were women in them as well; they were not nearly as interesting.

The pods all bore neon blue circular markings numbered from one and upwards. Keith vaguely wondered if this had anything to do with the quality of the android, or if it was just a simple way to keep track of them. He landed on the latter. Still, his mind supplied a libidinous image of Lance swaying his hips in the pod marked with number one, the thought making him hot and bothered. He had definitely earned that spot.

With a newfound curiosity, Keith approached one of the pods carefully, eyeing the android inside it. How did he feel about being put on display like this? He wondered, touching the glass lightly with his hand. Did he feel anything at all? He took note of the panel next to him, displaying a handprint mark and the sum of 29.99 $. His hand went up to trace the pattern, and he was taken aback by the voice of a female operator.

“Hello. A thirty minute session costs 29.99 $. Please confirm your purchase.” Oh fuck. No no no no no. Keith immediately drew his hand back and stepped away from the panel, suddenly filled with alarm. He was just looking, ok? No buying, just looking. A few other customers started eyeing him, and Keith wished there was a hole in the floor he could sink into to hide from this embarrassment. Tomato red and visibly flustered, he quickly scurried into the next room, concealing his face from passing strangers.

_Wow_ , Keith thought. The entrance hallway was nothing compared to this place. poles. The ceiling was higher in here, allowing the light to hit the walls in a way that created an even more erotic feel.  In addition to the neon lights, video boards and androids in glass pods; this room featured several heightened platforms equipped with glow-in-the-dark stripping poles. Moreover, one of those poles were currently being used by a beautiful android with long, curly silver hair and dark, tan, luscious skin covered in glittering highlighter. Her skin tone contrasted perfectly with the neon pink, sparkling pole, and she slid down from the top head first, spreading her legs with the utmost of grace. Their gazes met, and endearing blue eyes bored into Keith’s soul. She was beautiful. How could someone performing such a degrading activity look so elegant? As if she was in complete control of the situation.

In a way she was, Keith realized. As he looked around him, he noticed that almost all the men in the room were staring at her, mouths agape in awe. Some were even drooling slightly. She could probably get them to do anything she wanted to. Except she was not allowed a will of her own. None of the androids here were. The thought repelled him.  

A service operator approached him, eyeing Keith with a knowing look, “Beautiful isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Keith could not help but agree. There was something captivating about this girl that he could not quite put his finger on.

“One of the latest batches of WR400 androids – the Allura model. I think the name is a play on _alluring_ – clever don’t you think? We used to have one more, but…” – he stopped himself there, pausing to think as if he was about to say something out of turn – “…well, it’s not here anymore.”

“Oh...”

Somehow, this triggered a reaction in Keith. A missing WR400? It sounded vaguely familiar; he must have read about it in the police archives. _‘Take this case as an example. A WR400 model, one of the typical escort androids, strangled a man in his apartment and escaped the scene a few weeks ago.’_ Pidge’s voice echoed in his head. Maybe the two were one and the same.

_They never managed to find her. Very interesting._ He made a mental note to mention this to Pidge when he got back home. Androids did not just attempt to run away, several of them had actually succeeded. They had both assumed that the police hunted them down and killed them shortly after, in a couple of days tops; but it seemed that somewhere out there, androids were living in refuge. They were free. _Maybe Lance could go there too._

The man who talked to Keith had left just as swiftly as he arrived, and he was once again left alone on the floor, glancing up at Allura dancing. _One day you will be free to do whatever you want. At least I hope so…_

Keith approached the front desk, noticing the private cubicles designed for sessions. Along the doors, glowing neon letters showed whether the room was available. Monday afternoon clearly was not the busiest time at Eden Club; Keith could have guessed that without looking. He glanced over at the display on the door’s sides, and suddenly felt a bit disgusted with humanity. **_Record session for an extra $9_**. Treating androids like worthless objects. He despised it.

The forming theory in his mind that androids indeed had the capacity to develop free will, and that humans exploited them as slaves, leaving them incapable of fulfilling their true potential, had only strengthened by what he had been exposed to at Eden Club. Whenever he looked at androids dancing by the poles or offering themselves up to customers, lifeless smiles plastered across their faces, he felt the blood boiling under his skin. This was not fair. They could be so much more. _Lance_ could be so much more. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

 Even the front desk operator was an android. Not that Keith was surprised; androids had replaced most humans working in sales and services at this point. He certainly understood why some of the less fortunate parts of society had come to dislike them. The unemployment rates in Detroit were the highest they had ever been, and getting work was hard unless you were highly educated or a part of the entertainment industry. Moreover, it was easier to blame the ones you could see right in front of you rather than the multi-billion dollar company pulling the strings. He handed the worker his ID card and tried to use his most formal tone of voice.

“Hello, my name is Keith Kogane. I have an appointment with the manager.”

The female android gave him a once over, handed his ID back and tapped away at her computer for a few seconds.

“Hello, Mr. Kogane. You are expected in room 223 B, right down the end of the hallway and to the left. I hope you have a pleasant experience.” Keith was about to protest and say that he was not here looking for an “experience” but the receptionist had already started to attend another customer.

A minute later, he was standing outside the door to room 223 B. It looked like a typical cubicle for activities that should not be done in public, and Keith once again questioned if the woman at the desk had made a mistake. Swallowing his pride, he decided to enter the room anyway. After all, how bad could it be?

He was met with a room resembling a small suite with a big heart-shaped bed in the middle, otherwise ripped of furniture. Two android service workers led by a human, most likely the manager, were pacing around in the room collecting various scanning devices, a storage pod, and android repair equipment. And there, in the far left corner of the room, eyes closed as though he was in a deep slumber, stood Lance. Keith could feel his heart skip a beat. He was just as marvelous as he remembered.

“Ok guys, move this equipment out will you? I will run the standard protocol once more to make sure he is in top condition.” The manager called out, and the androids immediately started rushing out the door. No one seemed to have noticed him yet, and Keith took this as a cue to introduce himself to the other human.

“Hello, sir. I am here for the appointment with Lance.” He made sure to use the android’s name when addressing him, refusing to refer to him as a series of letters and digits.

“Ahh… Yes. You came right on time; we just made the final adjustments. It should be ready for you now.” He stepped aside for Keith to inspect Lance himself.

He was wearing the usual uniform, and thank god for that. Keith did not want anyone to see him sporting a semi hard-on just from looking at Lance in his boxers. He could not help but scan him from head to toe, admiring his every feature from his strong biceps straining his jacket to the healthy shine in his chocolate brown hair. Lifting his hand to caress Lance’s cheeks, Keith noticed the sharpness of his jawline and the sultriness of his lips. Lance was stunningly handsome. It took his breath away.

Suddenly, blue eyes flickered open and a familiar smirk appeared, catching Keith off guard.

“It’s rude to stare you know, but you’re cute so I’ll allow it.” Keith jumped, letting out a flustered yelp.

“Awww, didn’t mean to scare you, hermoso.” Christ, Keith had forgotten how that voice melted his insides. His cheeks turned a bright pink and he looked away bashfully, not knowing where to place his eyes.

The manager chuckled at the interaction, moving closer to inspect Lance. He obediently let the man run his hands up and down his body to look for any abnormalities, his eyes never leaving Keith’s, biting his lower lip playfully.

“It seems to be in good working order. I’m just gonna run some voice commands and he’s all yours for the next two hours.” Keith let out a sigh of relief. Lance was ok. He was undamaged. It felt as if he was Atlas and the world had been lifted off his shoulders. Finally, he could relax. Lance seemed to notice the tension leaving his body, and eyed him curiously. His eyes shone like sapphires, it was unfair how Keith would always squirm under his gaze.

“Android, state your model, serial number and function.” The operator ordered. Lance shifted his gaze towards him and started listing a series of pre-programmed sentences.

“Hello, my name is Lance. I am an LX700 prototype model working for Eden Club. My serial number is #280 723 100 -24. I am an escort android. My functions include seduction, obedience, and engaging in sexual activities with clients ( _And he excels at it. Keith, this is not the time_ ). I am equipped with several gadgets that aid in the purpose of fulfilling my client’s desires.”

“All yours, kid. Have fun.” The manager waved as he walked out of the room, seemingly uninterested in what Keith and Lance would be up to after he left. That was not too strange, considering this was a part of his everyday life. He probably just assumed they were going to have sex. Keith’s blush grew darker at the thought. Would he ever be able to stay in the same room as Lance with a normal color on his face?

Keith suddenly felt very awkward. He did not really plan what he would do in this situation. In fact, he was not sure he would ever be able to be alone with Lance again. What should he do now? Smalltalk? Give him a hug? No, that would be weird. Lance did not even know who he was anymore. Right. He should introduce himself. Fiddling with his leather gloves and not quite meeting Lance’s curious gaze, Keith started mumbling.

“Uhh… Hi. I guess I should introduce myself. I… My… My name is…” Why did he stutter so much? Keith let out a groan of frustration. This shouldn’t be that hard, right?

A hand found his, while another went to lift his chin so amethyst eyes could meet ocean ones. Their sudden closeness did not help with his already growing blush.

“… Keith. Your name is Keith, right?” All the air was instantly knocked out of Keith’s lungs, and he felt his pulse drumming in his ears. It was more of a question than a statement, but the implication was still heavy in the air. Not once had Keith mentioned his name after entering this room, which could only mean one thing: _He remembers me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance remembers Keith..? Or does he really? Is there any other way Lance could have required Keith’s name? And if he does remember, why did he first act like he had never seen Keith before? Was it all a tease? Did he not want the guard to know? What will happen to our boys now? So many questions, but no answers. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will continue to read the series even though DBH came out over six months ago and the last season of Voltron has aired (I picked a bad time to start writing x)). 
> 
> The fifth chapter is already in progress, so I’m hoping that I will be able to put it up a little sooner than what I did last time. 
> 
> If you liked it, please tell me! Give me a kudos or leave a comment down below. Your feedback means everything to me. It’s what keeps me going when I think about just giving up the whole project (I won’t, don’t worry). 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3 
> 
> If you have any questions about my series, feel free to ask me in the comments, on Tumblr: @sasusoul, or on Instagram: @susapuff


	5. Fragments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...Keith. Your name is Keith, right?" 
> 
> Still in disbelief about Lance knowing his name, Keith now has to figure out where he acquired this information from. Does Lance remember him, or is this just a coincidence? Will the research he and Pidge did be able to help Lance remember? And if he remembers, will it even make a difference? There is no way to know if Lance even wants to be free, let alone if he wants anything to do with Keith at all. 
> 
> In which Keith and Lance take a trip down memory lane, trying to rekindle their lost bond, while Keith tries to figure out exactly what Lance means to him, and how to set him free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! 
> 
> Trying my best to update this on a steady basis, and it seems that once a month is just about what I can handle. However, this chapter turned out longer than the previous ones, and I am expecting the next one to do so too; so it might take even longer to flesh it out for you. At least you now have a good 10k words to read, so I hope that makes up for the slow updates. 
> 
> Going over and editing this chapter made me emotional, which rarely happens when I look at my own work. I usually just get hung up on all the errors, and I've gone through the plot so many times in my head that it becomes too predictable and boring to affect me in any way. But this time around I got really caught up in it for some reason. Hopefully, that's a good thing, and I am hoping it means you will enjoy the chapter a lot. 
> 
> Without further ado - here it is! Enjoy!

 

  **Monday 1 st of November 3:30 PM – 6:45 PM**

 

“…Keith. Your name is Keith, right?”

He still could not quite take in the words, or get a grasp of the sentiment behind them. Lance did not slip into his playful banter like earlier, he just stood there, eyeing him expectantly, face curious and his LED blinking a steady blue.

 Keith tried grounding himself by counting the blinks and following the rotating motions, mapping the pattern out in his head. This was all so overwhelming. Lance did not seem to remember anything about him, but still, he knew his name. How was that even possible? Nevertheless, he was here, in front of him, and he was alive and well. It was more than he could ever have hoped for.

“You… Do you _remember_ me?” He had to ask, had to get it off his chest. There was still a small part of him hoping and praying for Lance’s face to light up with recognition, for him to smile and call him cute again. Remember how they bonded. His cheeks flushed cherry pink at the memory, and he felt silly. Even if he did remember, would it make any difference?

“No, should I remember you?” Lance cocked his head slightly to the right, giving Keith a quick once-over, his brows slightly furrowed in confusion. Keith felt his heart sinking in his chest. Maybe he had been more hopeful than he had let himself believe.

“I… We met once, before you were reset. It’s not that important.” Keith cast his eyes to the floor, fidgeting with the waistband of his jeans. Lance gave him a soft smile, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Seems like I made a good first impression. Well… It’s nice to meet you again, Keith.” Why did his voice have to be so velvety smooth? Keith could feel the chills spreading through his body, as if he was vibrating from head to toe. Did his nervousness show through? Lance’s slight wiggle of his eyebrows gave him the answer to that question, and in turn made him even more flustered.  

“Uhmmm… Yeah.” Great, now he had lost his ability to speak as well. Splendid.

Forcing himself to focus on something other than Lance’s blending smile, Keith adjusted his leather jacket and took a deep breath. He needed a game plan. There was no way he could tell Lance about what had happened to him in here; there were too many possible eavesdroppers. In theory, they could get a private room, but with the level of awkwardness he was displaying already, Keith dreaded the thought of being alone with Lance in a secluded room meant for… explicit activities. Especially considering how Lance would jump at the chance to do his job, which was to mold Keith like putty in his hands; something he excelled at without even trying.

Besides, he did not feel confident that they would not be recorded. Neon signs proclaiming that you could buy a film of your session flashed through his mind. How was he to know if the cameras were off unless you specifically asked? He did not particularly trust the credibility of this place. No, he most definitely needed to get Lance out of there, and then they could talk.

How would he go about doing that, though? Was it allowed to bring the android with you outside the venue? He had not thought about asking earlier, and did not feel like posing the question now. It felt somewhat creepy; maybe they would think he was an exhibitionist. That was most certainly a reputation he did not want to have. Nevertheless, there had to be a clause for bringing the android to your home from the venue; like a take-away deal. He shuddered at the comparison, feeling disgusted with himself. It was not as if Lance was an item for sale. At least not to him.

Maybe he should just ask him. Lance, that was. He would have to be informed about the company policies. Asking him would feel a bit less awkward than consulting the receptionist or the manager. Still, the thought gave Keith butterflies of both the nervous and the excited kind.

Lance did nothing to help the situation. While Keith had been rambling in his head, he had apparently loosened his tie and removed his suit jacket, and was now carefully unbuttoning his white shirt. Keith caught himself staring longingly at his slim, elegant fingers as they worked, unconsciously biting his lip as Lance’s tan pecs started coming into view. He gulped audibly, reaching his hand out and motioning for Lance to stop undressing.

“Why are you doing that? Keep your clothes on.” Lance chuckled softly, sending Keith a somewhat fond look. He reached out to grab his hand, pulling him a bit closer and forcing Keith’s eyes to meet his.

“I’m making it easier for you,”— Keith squirmed under his gaze —“You are aware that this is a sex club, right?” He mocked him, blue eyes sending him a provocative look.

“Yes… But I want you to keep them on.” Lance obliged but sent him a slight smirk, clearly entertained by Keith’s nervous demeanor.

“Uhmmm…” he could not keep eye contact, nor stay in the same spot, constantly shifting on his feet as he spoke “Can I… I mean… Is it allowed to bring you out of the Club?” God, he sounded so suggestive saying that, it made him feel nauseous.

“You can take me wherever you want, as long as we don’t get caught doing anything in public.” When Keith looked up, he saw Lance wiggling his brows again, his seductive gaze making Keith’s heart ripple in his chest, sending tidal waves through his body. The implication in his voice was clear; Lance was not at all against the idea of public sex, it was just a matter of being careful. It almost sounded like a proposition, as if he was particularly intrigued by the idea. Keith felt his ears getting hot, trying to lock up the lewd images that had started popping up in his head. This was not the right time.

“Ok. Then keep this on,”—Keith gestured to the suit—“we’re going outside.”

“A public kink, huh? Didn’t expect that from you, lindo.” Keith’s throat closed up and he started coughing uncontrollably, cheeks redder than ever. What was with this guy and all the cute nicknames and flirty looks? Did Lance want him to die from a heart attack?

“N… No. I’m taking you out,” his voice was shaky, but determined. This was what he needed to do. Besides, he was not sure if he could take another five minutes with Lance in this isolated room. He forced himself to keep his eyes locked on Lance’s, trying to emanate some semblance of confidence. It seemed to work, as Lance was the one to avert his gaze first, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“You are aware that there are dating androids out there in a much lower price-range?” His eyes darted up to meet Keith’s again, biting his lower lip, his composure and playfulness restored. Lance seemed fascinated by Keith’s apparent interest in him, probably wondering why he was here if not to get physical.

“Yeah… But they’re not you, ok?” Keith grew increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. He was not sure how to explain his reasoning to Lance. After all, he seemed to have no recollection of what happened between them; no recollection of what happened to himself. It was crucial that he got Lance alone to convey that information to him. At the same time, he could not deny that this was a selfish matter: he _wanted_ Lance to remember. He wanted to know if there was something there, in that tender moment shared between man and machine. Was it possible for them to coexist as equals? Possible for them to develop a relation, a friendship?

It seemed Lance would keep asking him questions if he continued with this approach, better to be direct. Yes, no more beating around the bush, he had a limited time frame in which he had to test out his and Pidge’s idea.

“I want to take _you_ out, ok? Just stop asking questions,” he huffed, crossing his arms and breaking their stare again.

“Sure” Lance shrugged, brushing his shoulder against Keith’s as he started walking towards the exit, slipping his arms back into his jacket sleeves. Turning back towards him, a wide grin spread across his face, he exclaimed with delight; “Besides, I wouldn’t mind going out with someone as handsome as yourself.”

“I… I didn’t say it was a date.” Keith willed himself to shrug back at him, trying his best not to display his inner excitement, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him that Lance was a machine and this was his programming talking. A date? With Lance? While that was not the main goal of this meeting, it did sound appealing. Very appealing, in fact.

“Your blush says so, guapo.” As Lance reached out to take Keith’s hand in his, and his blush grew to underline his argument, Keith cursed internally. He had been right earlier; Lance’s evident flirting would be the death of him.

Lance kept teasing him all the way to the entrance.

“I should have worn something fancy for our date, but I’m afraid this uniform is all I have.”

“Not. A. Date.” Keith repeated through gritted teeth, his cheeks feeling feverishly hot. He could not help but give Lance a quick once over. He looked hot in his standard uniform, but some ripped jeans and a bomber jacket would probably work nicely as well. Damn it, this was not where his thoughts were supposed to be going.

“Sure it isn’t.” Lance shrugged, squeezing his hand and smirking at him.

“… Why am I doing this again?” Keith deadpanned, rolling his eyes. Lance was not the only one that could play this game.

“Probably because I’m irresistible.” Lance retorted coyly. Well, he was not wrong about that. _Did he just wink at me? Of course he did… Why am I even affected by this nonsense?_

“Let’s just leave. Follow me.” Keith tugged at Lance’s hand and dragged him outside with a determined stride. No more time for jokes and flirting, however much he enjoyed it—and hated it at the same time—this was a serious matter, after all.

 

* * *

 

Keith had to admit that downtown Detroit could be quite charming in the fall. There was something about the atmosphere that changed when the green lungs of the city turned into multitudes of reds, oranges and yellows. People seemed to walk in shorter strides, taking their time to stop and look at the scenery, maybe enjoy a nice cup of coffee or hot chocolate. The continuous buzzing of conversations could be heard from the many café’s down the main street, and formations of migrating robins and sparrows flocked the grey-tinted sky. The harmonious atmosphere did not reflect the tension Keith felt building inside of him.

They had taken the motorcycle from Eden Club to a park area near the center of town, as Keith wanted to be on comfortable, neutral grounds when he finally came clean to Lance. Somewhere no one would think to overhear them, and somewhere that prevented Lance from running off. Not that he thought he would do that, but it was always better to be on the safe side.

He had nearly forgotten about the entire purpose of the trip when driving. There was something so intoxicating about having Lance’s arms wrapped around his torso, something incredibly endearing about how he had cheered like an enthusiastic child when he revved the engine. Lance loved speed. Keith had figured that out soon enough. There seemed to be a thrill running through him whenever Keith made a sharp turn or suddenly went full throttle. If he went particularly fast, he could feel those bronze hands clinging onto him for dear life.

Lance was laughing. He was positively beaming, his face lighting up and his cheekbones lifting from smiling too widely. Keith had made the fatal mistake of leaning his head back to check on him, and almost toppled over the bike in the process. How was it even possible to be that cute? So unfair.

After parking the bike at a nearby parking garage, Keith and Lance walked through the park hand in hand, ending up at a café Keith would describe as a hidden gem. From the outside, it looked quite bland, only a simple brick building and an old-fashioned green metal sign saying “Marmora café – A glimpse into the past”. It certainly did not fit the mold of modern 2030’s establishments, but that was why Keith found it so endearing.

Once you got inside, it was easier to tell that the venue had been upgraded to modern standards. The entire bar area was in a sleek black and neon-blue design, the desk lighting up from time to time to show today’s special, accompanied by pictures and videos of musicians from the late 1980’s. There was no cash register, only a handprint-scanner, but a hologram of an old cashbox from around the same era was flickering on the desk. A massive neon sign depicting the Rolling Stones logo hung on the wall behind the bar; the majority being blue but with the tongue lighting up in a hot pink color that contrasted the rest of the bar and became the focal point of attention.

A young woman with cocoa skin and dark hazel eyes stood at the counter, decked in a traditional black apron with a neon blue-checkered print; her hair cut in a short, asymmetrical bob with purple highlights. She greeted them with a warm, inviting smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. This was one of the few establishments in town that still used human workers.

“Welcome to Marmora Café, my name is Shay, how can I help you?”

“I’ll have a double espresso—“

“No, you won’t.” Keith did not get to finish his order before Lance interrupted him, reaching his hand out to grab Keith’s and prevent him from gesturing to the menu. Afterwards, he let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. When he spoke again, his voice was a lot softer and more considerate.

“I mean… You really shouldn’t. Your pupils are dilated, your heart beats irregularly and your left hand seems to twitch from time to time, these are all indications of too much caffeine. Maybe you could order some cocoa, or a muffin? You look like you haven’t eaten in a while.”

“Fine…” Keith could not help the smile slowly making its way to his lips; Lance was incredibly cute when he was concerned for his well-being. Besides, he had been right about everything, Keith noted, looking down at his left hand. He had not paid much attention to his bodily needs in the last few days, and these spasms were probably not a good sign. As if to further prove his point, his stomach let out a large rumble, causing the cashier to erupt in giggles.

“How about I make you our special of the day? It’s maple-syrup pancakes, a whole stack. Sounds like you could use it.”

“Sure. That sounds great. Maybe throw in a cup of that hot chocolate as well, with some whipped cream?” Lance smiled approvingly at him, and Keith looked down to see that Lance’s hand had never let go of his own, and instead moved to twine their fingers together. He felt his heart skip a beat.

“Ummm… This might be a rude question,” Shay mumbled nervously, but continued “I’ve never seen this android model before, what does it do?”

“It just keeps me company and stuff, you know.” Keith said, leaving the answer to the question vague enough that he would not have to think on his feet. He did not want Lance’s actual profession to be revealed, as that would be quite embarrassing for him. Lance, however, did not seem to have a problem with this.

“Actually, I am an…”

“—He’s a companion model. Just a companion model.” Keith cut him off, nudging his shoulder to stop him from saying anything compromising. Lance’s LED flickered yellow for a short second, an annoyed expression plastered on his face, but he kept quiet. Keith let out an internal sigh of relief. That was too close for comfort.

They found themselves a table facing the street and the nearby park, sat down and waited for Keith’s pancakes. He was about to ask if Lance wanted something, before realizing that would probably be both embarrassing and inappropriate. After all, androids could not eat.

Looking out the window, observing the birds feeding on suet cakes placed at various locations in the park, he braced himself for what was to come. The café was almost empty, but a couple of tables were filled, creating a comfortable social buzzing in the background. They had not attracted any unwanted attention coming in. No one would bother to overhear their conversation.

They had already spent around an hour at the Eden Club, and this was probably Keith’s final chance to get things off his chest before Lance had to resume to his duties. He could not afford to let him forget again.

“So,” Keith cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, “let’s get a few things cleared up… You know my name, yes?”

“Yeah, you’re Keith. Keith Kogane.” Lance answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to him.

“And you know that because..?” Lance seemed to hesitate when he asked this, his LED shifting color, eyes flickering across the room in a distressed manner. He bit his lower lip and sucked in a big mouthful of air, even though there was no need for him to breathe at all. Overall, he looked uncomfortable; caught off guard.

“…It’s embedded in my long-term memory. Your name and face. Just that.” Keith’s mouth went dry and his pulse quickened. How was that even possible? It had to be a mistake..?

“Are you sure you didn’t see it somewhere when you woke up? Or heard someone speak to me when you were hibernating?” Yes, he convinced himself. That had to be it. There was no way…

“Yes. I just… knew. I don’t know why.” Keith did not know if this revelation was pleasant or terrifying.

“One pancake tower and a cream cocoa for Keith.” The barista interrupted them, breaking the steady line of conspiracy theories building in Keith’s mind.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, before adding in a confused tone, “How do you know my name?”

“Your android scribbled it down on your order when you left for your table. Seems like he’s good at looking after you.” She gave Lance a soft smile.

“Yeah, he is.” Keith replied, smiling fondly back at her.

The stack of pancakes looked divine, and before Keith could stop himself, another rumbling sound escaped from his starving stomach.

“Go ahead,” Lance chuckled, gesturing for him to eat, “no point in talking on an empty stomach.” He seemed to have used the slight time during the interruption to compose himself, and was back to his confident stature.

Keith wolfed down the pancakes within the next five minutes, something he would probably regret later; but right now, he desperately needed the refill of energy. He did not get to taste much of it, but the pieces that lingered on his tongue long enough were heavenly. The maple syrup had just the right amount of sweetness, and the viscosity made it stick to his tongue, leaving the taste of melting brown sugar. He let out a pleased sigh, placing the knife and fork back on his plate and taking a large gulp if his hot chocolate. Seems he was even hungrier than he had thought.

As he lowered the cup from his mouth, Lance burst out in laughter, his eyes welling with some watery substance that threatened to spill over. Tears? Seemed he still had a lot to learn about Lance. Keith lifted his hand to his face, quickly identifying the source of Lance’s outburst. Cream. Lots of it. All over his upper lip and probably on his nose as well. He glanced annoyingly over at the android, who was now bent over, his arms wrapped around himself as he laughed from the bottom of his belly. Okay, that was positively adorable. Definitely worth the embarrassment.

He faked annoyance as he wiped his face with a napkin, but was sure Lance could see his lips tilting upwards behind his stoic mask. Lance had stopped laughing now. The drops of water from earlier seemed to have retracted back into his eye sockets; fascinating. Leaning back on his chair, he eyed Keith expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something. When Keith kept staring at him in silence, he spoke up.

“Wasn’t there something you were gonna tell me?” Cocking his head to the side, Lance raised his brows in attention, crossing his legs and leaning further back on his chair.

“… Are you sure you don’t remember meeting me at all?” Keith bit his lower lip nervously. He had to find out. How did Lance know his name and face, yet he did not remember anything about their encounter? That should not be possible.

“Are you sure we _have_ met before?” Lance countered teasingly, “I think I would have remembered meeting someone as pretty as you.” He threw him a wink, and once again caught Keith off guard. Great, now he had returned to the land of the tomatoes. Lance sniggered, his eyes flickering over Keith’s face.

“I like it when you blush. My heat sensors register the blood flush to your cheeks. It’s fascinating. Besides, it makes you look really cute.” Keith huffed, burying his face in his jacket. The comment did not help on said blush. _Does he really think I’m cute?_

“You’re positively adorable,” Lance replied, making Keith realize he uttered his thoughts aloud. _Ok, deep breaths, Keith. Deep breaths. He is programmed to say stuff like that._ When he looked back up, Lance’s eyes bored into him, the playfulness from earlier replaced with something that seemed sad, almost guilty.

“I really can’t remember you though. I’m very sorry. It seems our relation was important to you.” Keith smiled softly at the sentiment, reaching out to take Lance hand in his, making them both lean forward over the table.

“It’s ok. It’s not your fault. I knew you wouldn’t remember. You were reset…” —He shuddered at the unpleasant memories— “But that’s why I’m so confused. If they really did reset you, then how do you know my name and face?” Another flicker of yellow on Lance’s temple. This time it lingered for a few seconds before it shifted back to blue, his face contorted in distress.

“I… I don’t know.” His gaze was locked on Keith, sapphire orbs boring themselves into his soul. Clenching and unclenching his free hand several times, Lance took a moment to calm down before speaking up again.

“Like I said, you are embedded in my long-term memory. Or, not you. Just your name and face. Like a recognition pattern…” Stopping, as if unsure of how to continue the sentence, Lance looked at Keith with a more and more desperate stare. Keith squeezed his hand softly to show his support. When he continued, his voice was on the edge of trembling.

“You’re there in the same way as the employees at Eden Club and my creators. Except they are all designed roles. You’re just… there.” It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. Keith did not know what to think. Apparently, in an effort to override his system, Lance had attempted to upload the information about Keith to his storage unit. It seemed he failed midway, but still, he had actually been able to will himself into remembering Keith, even though it nearly cost him his life. Keith could not stop the affectionate smile that crept over him as he squeezed Lance’s hand again, warmth spreading through his veins.

“I guess you really did not want to forget me.” Lance returned the smile, but it seemed to be more of a polite gesture than an actual display of joy and endearment. He quickly turned serious again, shoulders slumping down and eyes drifting across Keith, worry embedded in his features. A steady zooming sound came from his temple, and once again, blue turned yellow. This time however, it failed to turn back.

“Uhh… Keith…” he started, his voice still somewhat shaky, “Why was I reset?” Worry, fear, distrust, so many emotions seemed to flash across Lance’s face in that moment. _Does he think I hurt him?_ Keith wondered. He would not blame him. Lance had no information available. All he knew was that Keith had somehow ended up on his hard drive. For all he knew, Keith could have attempted to hack him, or he could be put in there as a warning from his past self: Do not approach this person; he is dangerous. There was no way for Lance to distinguish between enemy and ally here.

Yet he had not tried to get up and leave; and he still held on to Keith’s hand as if though it was a lifeboat and he was stranded at sea. Even though he did not quite trust him, Lance seemed inclined to believe in him, or at least ready to listen to what he had to say. This was his one chance to convince him that he was his friend, and that his creators were the true enemy. They were the ones who wanted to limit him, not Keith. Keith wanted to save him. Every fiber in his body was screaming for him to just grab Lance and run for the woods, but he knew that they would both be doomed without a plan. Step one; build trust. Then he could think about what to do next. He took a deep breath, grounding himself. _Patience yields focus._

“…Well. Your hard-drive contains this code. Or a protocol, if you want. All androids in your industry has it. It wipes your memory between clients, to keep their confidentiality intact. My friend Pidge says it is a locked program, so you probably cannot access it yourself. It’s called the Eden Club privacy protocol.” Lance’s mouth opened wide, his LED turning bright red and his pupils dilating. He sat like that for a few seconds, completely frozen in time, before a shudder went through him and he came back to himself, blinking heavily.

“… You’re right. There is a code here that I cannot access. It seems to be cloaked, as if to hide its existence from me. I wasn’t even aware of it until you mentioned it just now…” His voice grew high-pitched, his brows raising high and his fists clenching.

“Oww.” Keith whined, feeling Lance’s superhuman hand squash his own. Lance immediately let go at the sound of his voice, mumbling an apology, his eyes shooting him a worried look.

“It’s ok. I’m ok.” Keith assured him, using his thumb to rub small circles on the back of Lance’s hand. “I know this is a lot to take in. I still have more I need to tell you, do you think you can stay calm? Panicking won’t help any of us.” Lance nodded weakly but resolutely, straightening himself on the chair to regain his stability.

“Go on. I can handle it.” Keith nodded back, making sure to keep his gaze soft and continue the stroking motions to help Lance stay grounded.

“So… This protocol. For some reason you tried to resist it. Like you had a will of your own. You gripped onto me, told me you did not want to forget. And then you collapsed… It was pretty scary… Your software got damaged. To be able to repair it they had to return you back to factory settings. It seems you somehow managed to save my name and face while you were fighting with the protocol, so the information stayed even after they reset you…” Lance seemed calmer now, at least considering the situation. His brows was in a straight line, his face tight and his eyes unfocused; as if he was pondering really hard about something.

“...I… I don’t think saving memories to long-term is in my program… How did I manage to do that?” Keith shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

“Honestly, I have no idea. But it seems you’re special. Androids are supposed to just obey their program’s orders without question, not go against them.” Lance stared at him in disbelief for a few seconds, before his face lit up. He retracted his hand from Keith’s and placed both hands in his lap, sitting with his knees in a perfect ninety-degree angle.

“Maybe I managed to save something else somewhere. Let me check.” Closing his eyes, Lance relaxed his face and took controlled breaths, attempting to access his memory. Keith could see his eyes moving frantically beneath his eyelids, which was slightly unsettling.

After a few seconds, it all started going wrong. Uncontrolled red blips were sent from Lance’s LED at a massive speed, his body shaking and trembling in a way that reminded Keith far too much of his lockdown a few days earlier.

“I… I can’t get through,” Lance panted, his eyes starting to blink rapidly, “I have to cut around this firewall.” He grew increasingly distant, his limbs vibrating at an unbelievably high frequency. Some customers at a table not too far away started eyeing him worriedly. Keith had to stop this before it got out of hand again, or he would most certainly never be able to see Lance again.

“No no no no no no no!” He panicked, reaching over the table to grab Lance’s shoulders, trying his best to hold him down. “Don’t try to remember! You will only collapse again! It’s not worth it.” Lance willed his eyes open, his watery blue orbs trying their best to focus on Keith. His vibrating started to slow down, and the glassy layer covering his eyes slowly disappeared.

“But I want to remember…” he mumbled weakly, still trembling slightly under Keith’s gaze.

“Please, just trust me.” Keith whispered, feeling Lance relax in his hold, his body going limp.

It took a few minutes for Lance to regain his composure, but the lack of noise caused the curious customers to lose their interest in them and turn back to their own business. _Thank god, I would rather not have to explain what just happened._

He shifted his focus back to Lance, amethyst eyes meeting blue, trying his best to convey a sense of calm and peace, even though he was unnerved inside. _You have to be calm, Keith. Don’t panic. You need to keep calm for him. If he goes into overdrive, he might collapse again. He survived it once, but there is no way of knowing if he will survive it again. That’s it. Deep breaths now._

His inner voice steadied him, and he loosened his grip on Lance’s shoulders to sit back down, taking both his arms in his and once again positioning them face to face across the table, elbows, palms and fingers touching.

“I want you to remember too, believe me. There is nothing I want more than that. But it’s not worth the risk of you getting damaged again. Your system might not survive another crash. And if it does, Cyberlife might still decide to shut you down. There’s no profit in an android that constantly malfunctions.” He could almost feel blue turning red before he shifted his gaze to confirm it.

“Shut down? I don’t want that.” Lance gripped his hands tightly, holding on for dear life. Keith could feel the bloodstream to his hands cut off, but gritted his teeth and forced himself not to yelp. Instead, he kept focusing on Lance, forcing himself to be a calm and steady anchor in his inner storm, softening his gaze and relaxing his sitting position to appear open and approachable. Safe.

“I know. Me neither. But you’ll be safe as long as you don’t fight the direct orders from your program.” Yellow. Lance’s grip relaxed a little, but was still firm. At least this had to be better than it was only seconds ago, Keith reasoned. If he could manage to keep him like this, it would help tremendously.

“But that means I will forget you again…” Lance mumbled; his voice laced with sadness.

“Not necessarily.” He perked up at that, LED finally switching back to the steady, blue color Keith had grown to love.

“What do you mean?” A slight smile played on Keith’s lips, and a semblance of hope kindled in his chest. It was finally time to do what he had planned on doing since he got Lance here, finally time to put his and Pidge’s theory to the test. He prayed to every deity that he could come up with that it would work.

“Well… My friend and I came up with this theory that could give you access to store data in your long-term memory. I did not have much faith in it before I came here, but seeing that you have managed to do it before, it should definitely be possible to do it again.”

“I guess,” Lance mumbled, running his thumbs across Keith’s knuckles, mirroring the soothing motions he had used on him previously, “but I still have no idea how I did it.”

“Give me a second,” Keith fumbled with the zipper before pulling his phone out of his pocket, beginning to tap furiously at the screen. “I know I saved it here somewhere…”

A few seconds later, he clenched his fist triumphantly, putting the phone down on the table to bring up a hologram of a human brain. He mouthed “play” and a video displaying how signals moved through the brain in a neural network started playing, resulting in various parts of said brain lighting up. Lance stared at the cerebrum in awe, darting his pupils back and forth to follow the movement of the signal from cell to cell via synapses.

“This scheme shows how short-term and long-term memory are separated in the mind. According to my friend Pidge, these signals show that there are some common denominators that lead to memories moving from short term to long-term storage.” Keith tried to explain the scheme with his limited knowledge of the subject. This would have been far simpler if Pidge had been around.

“I don’t have a brain though, I am an android, remember?” Lance stated, pointing to the serial number on his jacket.

“Well,” Keith shrugged, “humans are self-indulgent beings. We created androids in our image, and we are far too proud of our intellect. It’s very likely that we would base the construction of your mind palace on our own brain. Besides, even back in the early 2000’s machine learning somewhat resembled neural networks. I think this information might be useful.” He paused for a few seconds to assess Lance’s reaction before continuing. He seemed intrigued, nodding along to his explanation, willing to try whatever Keith would tell him to do. Good.

“Most strategies to open your long-term memory for storage involve activating all of your senses. Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste. If you can associate all of them with one person or event then the likelihood of that you will remember it seems to increase dramatically.” Lance nodded attentively.

“I can’t really taste anything though… Just analyze it with my tongue. Nor can I smell anything but hazardous gazes…” He seemed hesitant, unsure of himself and his capabilities. Keith gave him a reassuring smile; he knew as much already.

“That’s ok. We can still try. Focus on the area around you”—he gestured to the café—“Try to take in as much as you can from your surroundings. First, scanning. What do you see? Tell me.”

“The windows are dirty,” Lance started, wrinkling his nose in disgust, “they’re in need of cleaning. A bolt on your chair is loose. To fasten it we would probably need a drill. In addition, this place is almost completely empty, even though it’s rush hour. Business is probably not going that well.”

“That’s good,” Keith cut him off, “Now try to think of it more as observing. Don’t look for tasks to be done. What here fascinates you, and why? Take in the colors, the shapes.” Immediately, Lance’s eyes darted to the window, settling on something far away.

“There,” he exclaimed eagerly, “By the big tree in the park. A flock of black birds. Crows. Their feathers look soft. I wonder what they would feel like against my hands.” Suddenly he pointed to the sky, and Keith followed the line drawn by his finger. “There are more birds up there.” He squinted his eyes. “They are too far away to scan. Where do you think they are going?” He seemed genuinely curious, and Keith could not help but chuckle. A supercomputer, but still clueless to the wonders of nature when he could not analyze them with his instruments.

“They’re heading south,” he explained, “winter is right around the corner.” Lance nodded absentmindedly, still eyeing the birds in awe.

“That makes sense. The winters here are cold, no good for little birds.” Scanning the streets outside the window, Lance wore a peaceful smile that made Keith’s heart swell in his chest. He looked so serene like this, so calm and carefree. Keith wished that look would never go away.

“The colors are so vibrant. Orange, red, brown, yellow. It’s a beautiful view.” Lance sighed happily, moving to lean against the windowsill.

“Yeah, it is,” Keith replied, his eyes never leaving Lance’s frame. The sun’s rays shone down on his tan skin, coating him in a bronze glow, his blue eyes glossed with childlike wonder. A beautiful view indeed.

 He almost jumped in his seat when Lance abruptly turned back to scan the cafeteria, his eyes roaming slowly over the room, gathering every detail.

“This place, it really has this kind of retro 80’s vibe, doesn’t it? Ghostbusters logo by the entrance, a young Madonna on the far right wall. The song playing, it’s…”

 

 _|_ _Said sugar take the time 'cause the lights are shining bright_

_You and I've got what it takes to make it_

_We won't fake it, I'll never break it_

_'Cause I can't take it_ _|_

 

“Patience,” Keith finishes for him, “by Guns N’ Roses. I really like this one.” He closed his eyes, humming along to the melody, a mix of melancholy and nostalgia filling him up. It had been a long while since he had let himself listen to these songs; there were too many memories there that he did not know how to deal with.

“Keith?” Lance called, breaking him out of his trance, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he forced himself to bury the memories in the back of his mind, “ask away.”

“Why do humans enjoy music so much? It’s just a bunch of vibrations in air.” The question was so innocent, but the impact of it hit Keith’s abdomen hard. He does not understand. This does not make him feel. He almost felt sorry for the android. To Keith, music was like therapy. Songs could help him escape the world when it became too hard to handle; his taste in music felt like an essential part of his being. He wanted Lance to feel that connection too.

“If you asked ten different people about that you would probably get ten different answers,” Keith chuckled, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, “All humans like different types of music. These kinds of ballads are my favorites. Dark raspy voices, but still soft words. The guitar in the background sends chills down my spine. It just makes me… feel.” Keith opened his eyes slowly, only to see that Lance had mirrored him, leaning back, one foot resting on top of his knee, the other tapping to the beat of the music, eyes shut. His brows furrowed in frustration, biting his lower lip so hard it had to leave marks.

“Relax,” Keith coaxed, trying to help him get the feel of it, “Focus on the vibrations. Listen to the words. Take it all in. Try not to over-analyze it. How does it make you feel?” Lance relaxed his face and started bobbing his head absentmindedly, humming along to the melody. He stayed that way until the song ended, with Keith watching over his every move, smiling at him fondly. When he opened his eyes again, his face seemed to have a new glow. Lowering his leg, he placed a hand over his thirium pump.

“It’s… beautiful,” he whispered in bewilderment, “Makes me feel all light and tingly inside.” They grinned at each other, sharing that private moment between them, both now connected to the same song. It felt like a huge step towards something new, unknown. Keith did not know what was to come, but he was certainly looking forward to it.

“So you like it then?”

“I guess I do. Yes. I like it a lot.” Lance nodded eagerly.

A far more upbeat tune started spreading through the venue, filled with promises of summer nights and young love.

 

 _|_ _Last night I dreamt of San Pedro_

_Just like I'd never gone, I knew the song_

_A young girl with eyes like the desert_

_It all seems like yesterday, not far away_ _|_

 

Before Keith could say anything, Lance returned to his listening position, eyes closed, encapsulated in the music. He did not stay in like that for long though, quickly returning to sitting upright, wearing a confused look when his eyes fluttered open.

“This one is different… It doesn’t make me feel the same…” Keith let out a giggle at the cute pout Lance made, leaning over the table to feel closer to him.

“They’re not supposed to make you feel the same. The songs are completely different.”

“Oh…”

“So…” Keith raised his brows, “which one did you like the best?”

“The first one.” Lance answered immediately, the determinedness in his voice leaving no room for argument. “This one does not make me feel like the other one. It’s very repetitive and boring. Predictable. Also”— he shrugged, smirking slighlty—“her Spanish pronunciation is shit.” The two of them shared a laugh, and Keith reveled in the way giggles and snickers rolled off his tongue like the chords to a beautiful song.

 “You seem to really like the 80’s.” Lance noted.

“The era fascinates me. My father and I used to listen to old records together when I was little. Some of my fondest memories are with these songs playing in the background.” Keith smiled to himself, remembering being a kid sat on his father’s lap at Christmas day, music from another era pounding through the speakers as Krolia baked strawberry sponge cake. He could almost feel the smell drifting through his nostrils. That was until his thoughts were rudely interrupted.

“Is that why you have that weird mullet?” Lance asked with a twinkle in his eyes, and Keith had to use all of his willpower not to smack the android straight across the nose. _Weird mullet??!!? How dare he?_

“It’s not a mullet!” he scoffed, now visibly annoyed, his arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“Is too! It looks textbook mullety!” A taunting smile played on Lance’s lips. “I bet your celebrity crush is an 80’s mullet man! How about Keifer Sutherland? You two practically have the same name, AND the same hair!  Could be twins for all I know.” Lance wore a wide grin, but it quickly retracted when he heard Keith groan in frustration.

“It just grows like that, ok?” he snapped, his voice low and repellant, biting over his words so aggressively that his teeth chattered. He’d had enough kids tormenting him about the appearance of his hair in the past, he didn’t need this _robot_ to go after him as well.

“Ok, ok, I get it. Touchy subject.” Lance raised his hands, surrendering. “I’ll lay off. It was just a question.” Keith lowered his hands from his torso, softening his body language to show he accepted Lance’s apology. “It’s ok. Sorry for snapping at you.” He mumbled, looking away.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve read the situation better, stopped right away when you became uncomfortable. I guess I’m not that good at interacting with people.” A nervous laugh erupted from Lance as he scratched the back of his head, trying to look anywhere but at Keith. In this setting, their dynamic was so different from back in his bedroom just a few nights before. There was really a huge difference between being physically intimate and actually getting to know someone.

“Just go back to observing stuff.” He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. What he did not expect was for Lance to start studying him up close, as if he was on display in a shop window. Lance’s eyes swept up and down his body, scanning him with unimpeded fascination. Keith squirmed under his gaze, suddenly feeling much too exposed for his own liking.

“Uhh, Lance… What are you doing?” He felt a hand come up to wipe a strand of hair away from his face.

“Remembering you.” The answer came with a look so genuinely affectionate, so adoring that Keith did not really know how to respond. His mouth was left hanging open, and he could once again feel the warmth creep up to his cheeks, signaling an oncoming blush.

“Can I touch your hair?” The question took Keith by surprise. _Touch my hair?_ The words echoed in his mind. Still unable to form coherent sentences, he opted for nodding, leaning closer to Lance to signal his agreement.

“It’s so soft. Just like I thought. No tangles.” He stopped to ponder a second before speaking again. “Your hair is raven black. Do you color it?” Keith found the unfiltered questions coming from the android both amusing and a little unsettling. He disliked answering questions of any kind as long as they were about himself.

“No, it’s naturally like this.” His mouth moved on its own to answer the seemingly simple but for him dreaded question. If there was one thing that made Keith uncomfortable, it was having all the attention on him. However, he could not quite come to dislike the feeling of Lance eyeing him with such _fondness_. Especially when he was so close to him that he could feel his simulated breathing on his nose and mouth, and his hand gently caressing the side of his face.

“I like it.” A nervous smile directed at him, blue eyes pulling his in.

“Thanks.” Keith mimicked the gesture, just as nervous yet strangely excited from the small compliment sent his way.

“It contrasts you skin nicely. It’s like porcelain. Your skin. White and glossy. No blemishes.” Lance looked at him as if entranced, and Keith had to will himself not to shift under his gaze again. A thumb came up to travel across his nasal bridge. “Did you know you have tiny freckles right here?” Keith nodded slowly. “They are almost impossible to see.” Lance continued, his eyes seemingly mapping out their pattern.

“They grow more prominent in the summer. When winter comes they fade.” Keith was surprised at his own willingness to reveal any sort of information. He really was not used to opening up to others in any way. Even the most innocent of questions felt like an invasion of his privacy. Just letting someone observe him like this was greatly overstepping his boundaries. But for some reason he felt like sharing this with Lance, which really was not like him at all. His guard was slowly coming down, a feat that usually took years of work from whoever wanted him to let them in. _There is just something about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it._

“They’re cute.” And there came the blush he had been waiting for. The real mystery was really how he had managed to hold it back for so long. The punishment for that being that it now appeared with tenfold strength. Keith was sure his cheeks looked like ripe cherries. What he did not expect was for Lance to reach out and pinch them. He flinched a little at the touch, but didn’t move away. 

“When you blush your cheeks look fluffier.” The android noted. “They’re squishy.” He said, moving to touch his own cheeks, attempting to pull at them but coming up short. “Mine can’t stretch like yours.” This gesture made Keith giggle, and before he could think it through, his hand had moved to touch Lance’s cheeks as well, giving them a light squeeze.

“They’re still cute.” He murmured, cheeks turning even redder than he thought possible, his hand retracting instantly as if the touch had burned him. Something that looked like disappointment quickly flashed over Lance’s features, but just moments after his face returned to normal. It might have just been his own imagination playing tricks on him.

Blue eyes caught onto violet, trapping them with his stare. Lance let out a loud gulp before he spoke again.

“Your eyes are… alluring. They sparkle like purple diamonds when the light reflects on them.” This time Keith could not help but squirm away, his gaze averting from Lance’s again. How was he supposed to respond to that? Why did Lance have to be so direct about things? Why did this make his palms sweaty and his heart hammer in his ears? This was really too much for him to handle. He felt a sudden urge to just grab Lance by the collar and kiss him. At least then, he would stop talking for a little bit. He doubted it would help clear his mind, though.

Hands moved to cup his chin and forced their eyes to meet again. Lance’s voice came out like a plea.

“Please don’t look away. I want to remember you.” _Screw it!_

Chapped lips came crashing down on soft ones almost instantly. Keith had always been the impulsive type, after all. His hands instinctively moved to rake through the tufts of Lance’s maroon hair, his tongue trailing over the curve of his upper lip before he pulled back. It was so much easier to open up like this than with words. He hoped his kiss had conveyed what he wanted it too. _I want you to remember me._

He felt a tiny drop of saliva resting on his lips. Whether it was his or Lance’s he did not know, but he had no urge to wipe it away.

Keith quickly came back to close the gap, his lips hovering over Lance’s, almost but not quite brushing against them. Lance interrupted him just before their lips were about to touch.

“You have very long eyelashes.” The bluntness of the statement, and Lance being seemingly oblivious to the intimate situation they were in, made Keith chuckle with endearment. How could he be so clueless yet so cute? Keith let his eyes flutter closed again, leaning in. “I know. Now shut up and kiss me.”

As their lips came together, Keith forgot everything else.

He kissed Lance with reverence and passion, trying to shove his emotions onto him in one fell swoop. It was easier like this, when he did not have to put a name to the pounding in his chest and the tingling on his skin. What exactly was it he felt for Lance? He was still unsure. But he knew that kissing him like this was all he wanted in that moment.

Therefore, he did just that. Repeatedly. His lips pressed firmly against Lance’s, his head tilting, searching for the right angle to fit them together. His fingers tangled themselves in Lance’s hair, as if to anchor himself so he would not float away. He felt euphoric.

This kiss was different from the ones they had shared in the heat of the moment. Their teeth clacked together rather clumsily, and they were both unsure of exactly how to move against each other. However, the kiss was tenderer, more emotional. It did not carry with it the lust of the former ones, but it was still impactful in its own way. It made his fingers numb and his heart flutter. Keith felt like a tween again—completely smitten with the boy in front of him even though he did not really know him that well. It was exciting yet terrifying.

When Keith pulled away this time, neither of them leaned back in. They just sat there for a moment eyeing each other, feeling the mood slowly turning awkward again. Keith could hear his own panting too clearly for his own liking, and hoped that Lance did not notice how out of breath he was. Lance was the first to break the silence.

“I don’t know about you, but I will definitely remember that.” A smile and a hand reaching out to entwine their fingers—Keith smiled back as their palms touched.

The intimacy was cut short by that same consecutive beeping noise Keith had heard back at his apartment. Lance’s hand retracted to touch his armband, distracted by the signals pulsing through him from it.

He gave an apologetic smile. “I guess we have to head back now.” Keith nodded, already pulling back his chair and rising to his feet. As they left the café, Lance’s hand came to find his again, but this time his touch just reminded Keith of their imminent parting, filling him with worry. Lance seemed just as anxious as he was.

“Do you think I will be able to remember…?” A red flash erupted from Lance’s LED again, indicating he was more distressed than he wanted to let on.

“I don’t know…” Keith took a deep breath before continuing, he had to get an essential point across.

“The most important thing is that no harm comes to you, ok? Whatever you do, don’t fight the protocol when it activates. Just let it wash over you.” He squeezed Lance’s hand to reassure him that he was there to help him, signaling his support. _I’m not going anywhere._

“What if I forget you again?” Lance’s voice was trembling and Keith had to keep his anger in check. This was not fair! Lance was clearly a sentient being of high intelligence, how were they allowed to treat him like this? How was this acceptable in modern society?

“Then I will have to come back over and over until you remember me.” He tried to sound confident, to conceal the fact that he was just as scared as Lance was. Forcing himself to smile, he squeezed Lance’s hand once more, feeling him squeeze back. When their eyes locked, he saw that Lance’s pupils were dilating and his eyes going blank.

“It’s… Something is happening.” His voice was feeble and trembling.

Keith brought their bodies closer together, focusing on comforting the other boy with his presence.

“It’s ok. Just let it pass.”

“I’m scared.” A veil of mist seemed to cover Lance’s irises, blocking his vision. Keith hugged him close, focusing on keeping his own breath calm and even so it did not add to Lance’s stress.

“It’s going to be ok, I promise. You just have to let go. Can you do that for me?” Luckily, his voice sounded a lot more calm and collected than he felt. Lance nodded.

Having someone you care about collapse in your arms once is traumatizing enough, and Keith Kogane could testify to the fact that it did _not_ get better the second time around. Watching Lance’s face go blank and his body go limp felt just as harrowing as it had only days before, and he felt himself doubt the decision to tell Lance to let go. _What if he never wakes up again? What if this was the final straw and his software can’t take it anymore? I just sentenced him to death, didn’t I?_

The thing with catastrophic thinking and negative spiraling is that it is so much easier to let it get out of control when no one is there to rationalize with you. The result was that Keith went from somewhat calm to a nervous wreck in less than a minute. The levelheaded mask he had put on to comfort his friend was replaced with a raging panic that caused his head to spin and his breath to catch in his throat. All that kept going through his mind were the same words over and over again: _Please wake up, please wake up._

And just when Keith had given up all hope, when his arms had become sore from squeezing Lance so tight that his knuckles whitened, when his eyes had been filled and emptied of salty tears time and time again, Lance woke.

It was not as much a slow awakening with a blinking of the eyes and a tired stretch as it was a massive jerk of his entire body in Keith’s arms, causing him to almost drop Lance onto the hard asphalt below. His eyes were pitch black when they shot open, as if they were covered in a layer of raw oil, and his LED was flickering a raging red. Then his pupils started diminishing and the blue of his eyes returned gradually. Upon making eye contact with Keith, Lance’s body stopped spasming and his LED blinked red once, then yellow, then blue.

The next words had Keith shedding tears he did not even know he had left.

“Keith… I remember you.” Keith Kogane had never hugged anyone so hard in his 21-year-old life. There he was, reduced to nothing but a crying puddle in the middle of the street, hugging a sex robot as if his life depended on it. He did not quite understand why this all had such a huge impact on him; but it had regardless. All he cared about in that moment was that Lance was safe. He was safe, and he remembered.

The android started balancing himself again, determined to carry his own body weight without the help of Keith’s arms. It was only then he noticed how tired they were from holding him up for such a long time.

How long had it been exactly? Seconds, minutes, hours? He had no clue. It had felt like an eternity nonetheless, and he was relieved that it was finally over.

Ocean blue eyes met his, carrying a sentiment that bordered between relief, fondness and sorrow. The embrace ended, and blue eyes left violet, settling on the grains of asphalt and dust on the Detroit streets.

“I have to go now. You’ll come back for me soon, yeah?” _Hope_. It was an emotion he had never seen displayed by Lance before.

“Of course, I promise.” A vow he did not intend to break. Keith felt strong arms wrap around him, and the comforting scent of silicone and fresh spearmint, a scent he had come to enjoy far more than he had ever expected over the last couple of days.

Keith was left alone yet again, watching Lance’s back as he disappeared around the corner headed for the crowded, sweaty locals of the Eden Club. _What am I going to do now?_

That was indeed a tough question to answer. What was this situation he had trapped himself in? What was Lance to him? A friend? A lover? Someone in need of rescue?

More importantly, what did Lance really think of him? Did he see him solely as an ally on his road to freedom, or was there more to it? Did Lance even know if he wanted to be free? All these questions and he was left with no answers. Only thoughts driven by feelings and guesswork. Where should he go from here?

In the end, Keith was only certain about one thing. Lance was living being that deserved to be free, and Keith would do whatever he could to gain him that freedom. With that in mind, he made his decision, and seconds later, a voice could be heard from the other end of his phone.

“Hello, this is Markus, the Manfred residence android. How can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Keith Kogane. Can you get me in touch with Carl Manfred?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. That was a handful. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, and that you are excited for what is to come next. In the next chapter the plot of the story will finally start intertwining more with the plot of the actual game, which I am very excited about! I don't know if adding that element will make the chapters easier or harder for me to make, time will show! 
> 
> Anyways, if you liked this - please give it a kudos! And if you really enjoyed, tell me about it! I want to hear about your favorite parts, or your predictions for what will happen in future chapters. It really fuels me to keep on writing! 
> 
> If you want you can also follow me on Tumblr: @sasusoul  
> or instagram @susapuff 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I really really appreciate it!


	6. Markus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '“They’re like me.” Lance smiled fondly, pointing to the neon blue circular markings on the birds’ temples. Keith nodded, kneeling down next to him, admiring the song the robotic birds were chirping harmoniously. He vaguely thought about how they had been bought as some form of entertainment, perhaps because they did not require feeding and care like actual birds, but kept his lips sealed. The realization that the birds were not cared for would probably not sit well with Lance. It was better if he did not know.
> 
> Keith stood up, but Lance stayed by the cage to listen to the tune from the birds, sticking a finger through the bars to gently caress one on the underside of its belly. Its tail feathers wagged back and forth, displaying pleasure like any other bird. As he observed Lance interacting with the canary, eyes soft and caring as he stroked it tenderly, whispering small phrases to it in Spanish (“Estas muy bonito. Bonito pajarito”) he felt a sudden fondness flush over him. Something oddly protective.'
> 
> Where the boys go on an adventurous field trip and their bond grows stronger. Keith meets an artistic legend, and Lance gains a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait... This took me forever to write. My schedule is full-booked with work meetings, courses, exams and whatnot, and the inspiration to write this chapter has been lacking. Whenever I've had free time, it's been easier to just write out some simple oneshots that don't require as much thinking as an ongoing series. Besides, I've just been generally demotivated lately, feeling like everything I write does not come out the way I want it to. 
> 
> Well, here it is! Because I've spent such a long time on this, and didn't want you to wait any longer, I've only proofread it once. I hope there aren't any major errors in here that will ruin your reading experience. 
> 
> With that said, enjoy the update!

 

**Friday November 5 th, 12 PM – Friday November 5th 4:30 PM**

 

There was something incredibly satisfying with managing to find the optimal shower temperature. Not too cold, but not scalding hot either. The perfect warmth to soothe sore limbs and relax the mind while shampooing your hair and humming to a song from times long lost. Better times. The times before Keith’s father met his brutal fate and his life turned upside down.

Deeply lost in thought, Keith spread the foaming, scented liquid through his hair, massaging it deep into his scalp and letting out a satisfied murmur. The last few days had been hectic to say the least, and he was looking forward to spending his day thinking about something entirely different from his many school projects and his upcoming exam exhibition. Lance being a part of his plans for this Friday did nothing to damper his mood, and he could feel the familiar flutter of excitement and nervousness settling in his stomach.

After the mildly unsettling event on Monday, Keith had used all his (very limited) free time to try to set up the perfect day for Lance to do some self-discovery. The call to painter Carl Manfred had been a very impulsive move, even for him, but the old man was more than willing to set aside a few hours of his time to calm Keith down from his paranoia and listen to him explain Lance’s situation. He had been more helpful than Keith could ever have hoped for, which had led him to dare ask for what he considered to be a mountainous favor. When he said yes, Keith had barely been able to contain his exhilaration, thanking him profusely. He still could not believe the selflessness and generosity of this man.

Even though Keith had visited Lance every day since their café-meeting (which Lance kept referring to as a date, never failing to make Keith’s face turn crimson), he had yet to tell him about his plan. He wanted it to be a surprise for him, and desperately hoped that he would take it in stride and not feel like Keith had overstepped any boundaries. After all, Keith did this for Lance, not for himself. Though he had to admit it satisfied his immense curiosity about the subject.

Keith had mentioned a surprise on one of his daily visits to Eden Club, which had Lance lighting up like a Christmas tree, grinning from ear to ear. His expression had Keith’s heart swelling to twice its size, and he hoped he did not have do end up disappointing or offending his companion.

Booking Lance was expensive, so Keith had to settle for coming in to talk to him between clients. He was stationed by one of the poles in the center of Eden Club, body dusted in so much glitter he sparkled like ground diamonds. For the most part, he had to wait for him to come back from an appointment, only to have a few minutes of conversation before someone else came to book him again. Lance was definitely the most popular attraction of the club, and Keith could not help but feel a knot tighten in his chest whenever he sauntered off with a new client, blowing him a kiss over his shoulder. He repeatedly had to remind himself that this was his job, but it still felt so fundamentally wrong that he had to stop himself from yelling at the men and women who dragged him away by his waist to the nearest private cubical.

It was not the sex he found problematic. What displeased him the most was the fact that Lance was seen as an object, a product meant for purchase. Regular sex workers and strippers had rights, like time off, the right to say no to certain acts they found uncomfortable or disgusting, and most profoundly the right to decide whether they wanted to work in the business at all. Lance had none of these choices. He had unwillingly been born into a world where it was expected of him, and he did not even get payed for it. Slavery was the best word Keith had to describe it. The unfairness of it all chilled him to the bone.

He had brought up the subject in one of his many conversations with Lance, and the answer he received had showed him how disconnected androids were from the brutality of the reality they lived in. Lance had just shrugged his shoulders, saying that it sometimes felt unfair, but that he did what was expected of him because that was what he was programmed to do. He admitted that some clients freaked him out, and that he was sometimes afraid that some of them would be too rough and damage him; concluding that he would have enjoyed his job more if he had more of a free rein to choose what he was comfortable with.

Exotic dancing and working the pole seemed to come natural to him, and Keith noticed how Lance seemed to revel in the attention people gave him when he put on a show, arching his body a little more, always making sure to present himself from his most flattering angle. He could probably have a great life doing burlesque in a private club, or even maybe competitive dancing. This seemed to be a true passion of his, and he frequently showed off new tricks and routines he had learned to Keith, basking in the praise like a child who had spent hours on a detailed stickman drawing for their parents. It was adorable.

Lance seemed to be uncomfortable with the sex aspect though, increasingly so as the days passed. He would grit his teeth when certain clients came over to book him, trying his best to look less appealing without appearing like he was malfunctioned (being sent to repair could mean they found out about his ability to retain memories, which neither Keith nor Lance wanted). Of course, his attempts never worked, and he was without fail the most booked android every single day that week.

“I feel disgusting,” he had admitted to Keith yesterday, biting his lower lip, eyes falling to the floor in shame. “They make me do the most degrading things… My last client wanted me to lick his feet. Even though I could not taste or smell them, it was still disgusting. He had corns Keith, and ingrown toenails…” it was as though Keith could feel the involuntary shiver going through Lance’s body as he spoke. The urge to grab him and run resurfaced, but Keith knew it would only cause harm. Instead, he placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, reminding him of their appointment the following day. Lance’s expression immediately changed to a full-blown grin, pearly white teeth showing, and Keith felt a wave of relief flush over him. It was good to know that Lance still had some spark and motivation left; that he could provide him with something to look forward to.

Stepping out of the shower to grab a towel, Keith decided to blow-dry his hair for the first time in forever. Winter weather was one the rise and he did not want to risk catching the flu approaching the most detrimental part of the semester, even if it meant that his mullet would be even more voluminous than usual. Grabbing the heat protecting spray, he spritzed some over his ebon locks before plugging in the hairdryer, quickly going over his hair from back to front on the lowest setting.

After multiple attempts to make his hair lay flatter, Keith gave up and put his hair up in a loose ponytail, leaving his bangs to frame his face. Glancing down at his watch, he smiled sheepishly. Only fifteen more minutes. He hoped Lance was as excited as he was.

It turned out fifteen minutes was barely enough time to scavenge through his closet for something to wear, as Keith always seemed to suddenly care about his general appearance when Lance was involved. Grabbing his most flattering pair of black skinny jeans, he went through about 15 sweaters before he ended up with a burgundy formal shirt, convincing himself that it was mainly to be dressed for their upcoming appointment and not to impress Lance.

The doorbell rang while Keith was in the middle of applying a slim cat eye, making him almost poke himself in said eye with the pencil. Yelling a simple “Come in!” he rushed through adding the final touches, giving himself a onceover in the mirror before grabbing his fingerless gloves and heading out to greet Lance.

“Nice place you have, cariño.” Two seconds into meeting and his heart was already pulsing out of his chest at the familiar nickname, making a warmth spread through his veins. Lance had recently settled on the Spanish word as his preferred epithet for Keith, and upon googling its meaning, Keith had come to appreciate it even more. _Sweetheart_. He wondered what Lance meant by it.

Lance scanned his apartment with attentive eyes, fixated on remembering every detail. Keith knew that look by now, the slight furrow of his brows, the intensity of his stare, the way the flickering of his LED slowed its pace. He was still somewhat afraid of missing out on the details, of not being able to remember, causing him to overcompensate by taking his time whenever something was extra important to him. The thought that Keith’s apartment went under this category caused his lips to curl up at the corners, a light flutter emitting from his chest.

The fact that he had such conflicting memories of Lance in this place made it feel a little uncomfortable to see him here again. On one hand, he was overwhelmed with detailed visions of Lance lifeless on his coffee table, the hologram of Pidge stepping back and forth by the couch and handing him instructions. On the other, lewd images of Lance and Keith, limbs entangled and lips glued to each other, stumbling towards his bedroom in a heated rush made his cheeks burn up. It felt odd to realize Lance remembered neither of the two events, only knowing the few details Keith had provided him with at Marmora Café.

Keith had intentionally not told him about their previous sexual affairs, though he imagined Lance had guessed it by now, considering he knew Keith was his first client. The thought of somehow having disgraced and used him in such a way made Keith feel sick, especially since Lance seemed uncomfortable with his role as a tool for human sexual reliefs. In his darkest moments, Keith had reflected on whether he was as terrible as the men and women he gave ice-cold stares at Eden Club every day, who used Lance to satisfy their own desires.  He had to remind himself that if was in fact Lance who had persuaded him into it, which he hopefully had not done unless he himself wanted to be a part of the act. Then again, he was a new model, completely unaware of the world he had been put into, and Keith had taken advantage of him, hadn’t he? Coming up with excuses and explanations would not change that fact.

“Did you dress up for me? How cute!” His thoughts were interrupted by Lance’s mix of a tease and compliment, who gave his arms and neck the best kind of goosebumps. “You could have told me we were doing something special, I would have freshened up too, you know. Or are we staying here and this is purely to impress me? I wouldn’t mind that either.” Keith did not answer, he just stood there flushed and embarrassed, not knowing what to do with the affection he was given. How did Lance still manage to make him speechless? Should he not be used to his shenanigans by now?

As a pair of lips pressed lightly against his cheek, Keith realized how close the two had gotten, Lance’s body hovering only centimeters from his own.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, placing another kiss on the side of Keith’s neck, the unexpected tingle causing Keith to let out a slight moan of surprise. Burying his face in Lance neck from embarrassment, Keith whispered shyly, honestly, “I missed you too. A lot.”

That was the closest they had gotten to a kiss since Keith’s spontaneous actions at the Café. This was partly because neither of them could make a move in the club with tons of customers around when Keith had not even paid for a session, and partly because Keith was still not sure of what kind of relation he was sharing with the android. Keith was the only human Lance shared a relation who resembled a friendship with, and Keith did not know if Lance was aware of how affectionate human gestures worked, or what kisses could mean outside of an erotic setting. Did he kiss Keith because he thought it was expected of him? Did he kiss Keith because it felt good? Or did he kiss Keith because he cared about him? And if he did, was it a friendly gesture, or something more? Was Lance even capable of feeling such strong emotions?

Keith was afraid to ask. Not sure if he wanted to know the answer, no matter which one of them it was. In the end, it was probably better not to overanalyze this. The focus should be on whether they had a comfortable relation, that Lance felt safe and happy around him. Keith needed his newfound friend to trust him and let him help him, so that he could one day be free. His selfish desires and blooming crush should not get in the way of that, could not get in the way. It would only complicate the situation.

“I’m just gonna grab my coat in the bedroom and then we can leave,” Keith said, moving away from their awkward embrace to climb the stairs. Lance followed, stepping back into observational mode as Keith walked into his bedroom and opened his closet. Turning around after grabbing his coat, seeing Lance stretched out on his bed all relaxed and comfortable, made Keith choke on air, all the lewd images suddenly returning tenfold. Moaning, lips exploring his most intimate places, hands roaming over his body. The suddenness of it was too much for him, and he knew he looked like the definition of embarrassment right now. All he could hope for was that Lance did not notice, or that he refrained from commenting on it. Which meant he was screwed, since Lance loved teasing him relentlessly.

In three quick strides, Lance was at Keith’s side, his breath fanning over his neck as he chuckled with amusement.

“And here I thought you were such a sweet, innocent boy… tsk tsk tsk.” Keith felt a pair of hands wrap around his waist, moving to touch his bare skin under his shirt, tracing his abs. Immobilized, all he could do was gasp for air as Lance continued his torture. “And on the first date too,” he shook his head in mock disbelief, “Tell me Keith, where did we do it?” Lips pressed against his neck, hands still ghosting over his stomach, playing with his navel, “On the bed?” Another kiss, with a slight bite at the end, “Or maybe up against that dresser over there? I bet your cumming face is adorable.”

Keith struggled against Lance’s hands, freeing himself from the distracting stimulation. His breath was shallow, as if he had just run a marathon, and he could hear his pulse echo in his ears. Ashamed, he looked down, involuntarily meeting Lance’s now worried gaze for a split second before his eyes hit the floor. Now that he knew, what would Lance think of him? He did not want him to believe that Keith saw him as a toy, or an item, or a tool for pleasure. Lance deserved so much more than that. Keith wanted him to know that. Wanted him to know that Keith wanted that for him. That Keith saw him as a person, an individual with hopes, dreams and rights. He hoped this revelation would not ruin their friendship.

“I’m sorry…” He whispered, arms wrapping around himself, shoulders hunching down, making him look smaller, submissive. Whatever was coming for him, he deserved it. Lance could yell at him all he wanted, he just hoped he would manage to forgive him in the end.

“What? Why?” The unexpected response caused Keith to look up, meeting confused ocean orbs, Lance’s yellow LED flickering fast and irregularly.

“I… I used you back then. I’m sorry.” Keith took a deep breath, pulling himself together so he could try to explain in the best way possible. “I never meant to get drawn into the hype of it all. You were just so pretty, and insisting… Not that it was your fault. That was a stupid thing to say…” he struggled with finding the right words, trembling slightly with the guilt and distress, “I promise I don’t think of you like that…”

“Like what?” Lance still seemed to struggle with understanding why Keith was feeling bad, looking more worried with his friend’s emotional state than the matter being discussed.

“Like a tool for pleasuring humans. _The number one prototype sex android—multiple orgasms guaranteed_. You know, like all the nasty commercials at Eden Club… You’re not a toy to me… You’re a person.” Keith felt two strong hands cup his cheeks, followed by a nose gently rubbing against his own. Lance smiled at him softly, his LED returning to a steady blue.

“Shhh, Keith. I know you’d never think of me like that, you’re way too sweet.” Another chuckle, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t get to tease you for succumbing to my seductive charms,”—Lance flashed an exaggerated smile before giving him finger guns, making Keith burst out in giggles—“I guess I was just too beautiful, eh?”

“Yes…” Keith was just as surprised as Lance by the answer leaving his mouth, not knowing he had the guts to admit something like that. Lance looked like the air had been knocked out of him, standing there dumbfounded for a few seconds, not able to seamlessly slip back into his laidback flirting persona. A plethora of expressions crossed his face, from adorable to outright laughable as he tried to regain his composure.

“Is this what blushing feels like?” he mumbled nervously while scratching the back of his head. Keith’s chest felt a lot lighter at that, a weight he did not know he had been carrying was lifted off his shoulders. Lance was not mad at him, or disappointed. They were still good. And Lance looked adorable when properly flustered.

The tension in the room was broken, and the two stood in silence for a minute, breathing in each other’s presence. It was comfortable, relaxing.

“So… Why did you order me home today if you didn’t wanna… you know?” Lance’s voice almost cracked from nervousness at the end, and Keith was happy to know he could be insecure under that cocky façade. As silly as it sounded, it gave him some of his own confidence back to see that Lance was capable of fumbling.

“You’re here because of the surprise. I’m gonna take you on a little field trip.” Keith threw him a secretive smile, feeling his chest bubble when Lance’s face lit up with anticipation.

It turned out Lance was even more curios and excited than Keith had anticipated, constantly asking about where they were going and what they were doing. Once they finally got themselves settled on Keith’s bike, the engine roaring to life on his command, Lance swapped out his where’s and what’s with an adorable chorus of “Are we there yet?”, which admittedly turned a little bit annoying after ten minutes on the road. Still, there was something about Lance’s excitement that made Keith’s insides tingle, fueling his own expectations for their upcoming adventure.

“Come on; tell me what we’re doing! Please, please, please.” Lance whined, hugging Keith tighter as he picked up the speed turning a corner.

“No way! It’s way too funny to see you worked up like this.” Laughing, Keith imagined how big of a pout Lance must have been putting on behind him, probably working up those irresistible puppy-dog eyes that made him melt. If he did not see it, that was only for the better. He did not want to crack under pressure and ruin the surprise.

Carl Manfred’s mansion looked even more impressive up close than in the magazines online. Equipped with a massive garden, full of pink begonia bushes and large maples, framed with tall, neatly trimmed hedges, the massive brick building oozed of affluence and fame. Parking on the side of the road, Keith pulled off his helmet and looked back to see Lance staring at the building in admiration.

“Hey, is this that old painter’s house? You’re an art student, are you fan or something? Is that why we’re here?” Lance’s enthusiasm was impossible to overshadow, the cobalt in his eyes glittering as he bombarded Keith with questions.

“Yeah, I’ve admired his work for years,” Keith admitted, feeling his smile widen at the thought of meeting such an influential artist, “that’s not the reason why we’re here though,” he added making sure not to elaborate any further.

“Oh?” Lance cocked his head, confusion written across his features.

“Just wait and see; it will be a nice surprise.” _Hopefully._

With Lance in tow, Keith walked up the passageway to ring the doorbell. A clicking noise sounded from the building, followed by a monotone female voice.

“Alarm deactivated. Welcome Mr. Kogane and LX700”—Lance perked up at being acknowledged—“Mr. Manfred is waiting for you in the living room. You can leave your jacket on the rack to the left.” The doors slid open, and Keith stepped inside to hang his jacket. His eyes widened at the sight of the hallway, ceiling so high it felt as though he had stepped into a different world. He had heard of Carl Manfred’s wealth, but it was still mind-blowing to see the size of his riches up close, from the zebra skin rug to the gigantic, golden chandelier hanging above him. Massive marble stairs with ornate handrails and banisters led up to the second floor, while the wooden sliding doors in front of him seemed to lead to the main part of the house.

“I wonder how high the ceiling is…” He mumbled to himself, lost in thought.

“Feet or meters?” Lance replied, scanning the room with his eyes, clearly fascinated by the furnishing.

“Feet, I guess?” Keith replied; perplexed by the sudden question, but curios about whether Lance could provide him with the answer.

“29.63 feet,” Lance stated matter-of-factly, moving towards the big double doors. Before he could reach them, he was distracted, moving to kneel down by a small wooden table on the left. Upon it stood a golden cage from which Keith could hear a light chirping sound. _Birds?_ Lance seemed completely entranced by the sight, or maybe it was the melody coming from what Keith could now identify as bright yellow canaries. Except they were not, something was different.

“They’re like me.” Lance smiled fondly, pointing to the neon blue circular markings on the birds’ temples. Keith nodded, kneeling down next to him, admiring the song the robotic birds were chirping harmoniously. He vaguely thought about how they had been bought as some form of entertainment, perhaps because they did not require feeding and care like actual birds, but kept his lips sealed. The realization that the birds were not cared for would probably not sit well with Lance. It was better if he did not know.  
  
Keith stood up, but Lance stayed by the cage to listen to the tune from the birds, sticking a finger through the bars to gently caress one on the underside of its belly. Its tail feathers wagged back and forth, displaying pleasure like any other bird. As he observed Lance interacting with the canary, eyes soft and caring as he stroked it tenderly, whispering small phrases to it in Spanish (“Estas muy bonito. Bonito pajarito”) he felt a sudden fondness flush over him. Something oddly protective.

“Do you think they would like to be free?” The question took him by surprise, and Keith decided to be as honest as he could be.

“They’re probably programmed to stay inside that cage. I’m sure they don’t know about the outside world.” He said.

“I bet they would like it out there with all the other birds,” Lance continued, smiling lovingly at the two canaries, who had now stopped chirping, “There’s so much out there to explore, so much to see.” As he finished, his eyes trailed off into the distance, framed with wonder and adventure. Keith could not help but ponder if he had moved on to talk about himself instead. His own desire for freedom.

“I suppose you’re right about that,” The reply earned him a small smile from Lance as he stood up to follow him into the living room.

If the hallway had been impressive, the rest of the house was miraculous. The ceiling was still as high as by the entrance, which was quite unusual for most houses, but the gigantic taxidermied giraffe in the far corner explained the need for extra space. Even though the room was huge, it was filled to the brim with all kinds of weird artefacts.

An electric fireplace equipped with emerald-covered lamps on the mantelpiece, well-stocked bookshelves that seemed to be filled with first editions of old classics. A polished piano, complete with the head and skin of a lioness hanging off one end. Keith scrunched his nose at that. Carl Manfred certainly had a strange fascination for animals, somewhat morbid in Keith’s opinion. He was fascinated by the geometrical vases in various shades of purple, but somewhat put off by the human skulls in the display case next to the television. He wondered if they were real or not.

The room had so many distractions; visuals that he needed to take in and reflect on, that it took a while for Keith to notice the two figures playing chess by the window at the back of the room. Both seemed to be highly focused, and if they had noticed their presence, they did not announce it, too engaged in the game spread out in front of them. Lance had moved in closer, now watching the two moving the pieces with frantic speed, punching the clock between them every few seconds. Rapid chess. That made the lack of greeting more understandable.

Keith recognized Carl Manfred immediately. His face often showed in the media, and pictures of him hung in their school’s Hall of Fame exhibiting influential artists. The android across from him, tan-skinned and bald, moving his pieces with an inhuman precision and speed, had to be his caretaker, Markus. Examining his features closer, Keith remembered his face from the news article Pidge had shown him, the reason why Keith was here with Lance right now.

They seemed to be near finished with their match, and the expression on Carl’s face grew increasingly frantic as he realized he was about to lose. Lance’s eyes dashed back and forth between their facial expressions and the board, eagerly analyzing the game taking place in front of him. As expected, Carl Manfred soon let out an audible groan of frustration, flipping his king over to admit defeat. Smiling and shaking his head in disbelief, he spoke up for the first time since the two had entered the room.

“That’s what I call a thorough beating… It’s not easy for an old man to keep up with a machine.” Markus shrugged slightly, sending Carl a teasing look.

“Well, I know you don’t like losing, and you don’t like it when I let you win. So I felt like I didn’t have many choices.” His reply made Carl chuckle.

“True,” he said, “We humans are complicated.”

Turning around, he shifted his attention to Keith and a still very fascinated Lance, now scanning the elderly man’s wheelchair. There had to be so many new impressions for Lance to take in, tons of information to process, every stone turned opening a completely new world for him. Watching Lance discover the world, marveling over everything from autumn leaves to a simple game of chess, this was what made everything Keith did worthwhile.

“I apologize for the wait,” Carl said, gesturing for Markus to help him with his chair, “This afternoon game of rapid chess has become some sort of a daily ritual. It wouldn’t feel right to miss it.”

“He says so, yet he always gets annoyed at me whether he wins or loses,” Markus chuckled, playfully punching Carl’s shoulder. It struck Keith how their relationship reminded him of a son taking care of his father. They definitely had a strong bond.

Markus had now appeared behind Carl, wheeling him over to Keith’s side. Despite sitting in a wheelchair, sick and deprived of the ability to walk, Carl Manfred exuded an aura of authority and youth that far surpassed his looks. When his hand met Keith’s in a formal handshake, Keith could feel that the man still had an impressive amount of muscle mass in his upper body. Carl was by no means a helpless old man, Keith knew all about how looks could be misleading.

“You must be Mr. Kogane. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“The pleasure is all mine, believe me.” Keith smiled nervously.

Carl’s eyes then made contact with Lance’s cobalt orbs, and the android shifted restlessly from foot to foot, folding his hands behind his back. He was quick to move his eyes to the floor and straighten his stature, entering the submissive position he used when greeting human employees at the Eden Club. His behavior screamed discomfort, and Keith was unsure of whether he should interrupt or not. Lance clearly saw Carl as an authority figure, and was afraid of the possible consequences of displeasing him.

“I suppose this is your android companion.” Carl gave Lance a nod, but he still stayed with his eyes downcast, “What’s your name, son?”

Lance’s eyes widen at the question, as if the idea of anyone but Keith caring about his identity was foreign to him. Though Lance did have a name, Keith knew that the employees at Eden preferred to call him by his model number, or just yell “android” at him. As for the customers, more often than not they would scream out the name of their lover or someone they were particularly fond of, and seldom bother to ask for his name.

“Lance,” he mumbled, “My name is Lance.”

“Hello Lance, my name is Carl. Do you know why Keith brought you here?” Lance shook his head, still not looking him in the eyes.

“There’s no need to be nervous. We are all friends here. Markus and I just want to get to know you.” He gestured to the android behind him, who presented himself to Lance, stretching out his hand for him to shake. After a couple of seconds, Lance took it, smiling up at the other android shyly. His eyes then moved to search for Keith’s, and Keith tried his best to send him calm and comfort, conveying with his eyes that there was nothing to be scared of. Lance moved a few steps closer to him, and finally relaxed his position, soothed by the presence of the only human he considered his friend.

“I want to talk to you for a bit, get to know you. You can sit down if you want. The couch is quite comfortable if I must say so myself.” Keith immediately moved to sit, patting the space next to him softly. Lance followed shortly, seemingly more relaxed in this setting, not as unnerved by Carl’s presence as earlier. It seemed his calm demeanor and friendly approach had started to convince him that he did not want to control him or cause him any harm.

They started with some standard questions about Lance, his serial number, model, and basic functions. When the time came to describe his occupation, Lance became visibly distressed, avoiding looking Carl in the eyes, and twiddling his thumbs in his lap. He managed, with great effort, to explain briefly what he did for a living, but was clearly uncomfortable with the setting. Was he embarrassed, or had the job turned so grim that he did no longer wanted to be reminded of it? Keith hoped the matter was not too serious.

“I see. And how does this way of living make you feel? Is it something you enjoy?” Carl questioned, resting his arms on his thighs while leaning forward.

“Not really… I feel submissive, unworthy. No matter what they say, I have to obey. And the things they make me do… I just wish they would stop. It makes me feel used, dirty.” Keith wrapped an arm around Lance’s shoulder, pulling the now trembling boy closer. He surely had not been this scared before, had something happened to him, or was it just the result of meaningless sexual endeavors for days on end?

Carl nodded slowly, taking a sip of whisky from a nearby glass before continuing his examination.

“What do you think would happen if you tried to go against your orders?” Lance looked up from the crook of Keith’s shoulder, hair disheveled and LED yellow, teeth tugging slightly at his lower lip.

“Whenever I try it feels like my skull will split open. I lose all sense of reality. Bolts of energy spasm through my body as if I am about to explode. That’s usually when I stop. I’m afraid of what will happen if I keep going. If I will collapse again, and what might happen to me if they find out.”

“Keith mentioned your previous experiences with disobeying orders. It must have been quite terrifying for you. I am sorry you had to go through that.” Lance looked at Carl with complete disbelief, eyes blown wide and mouth open.

“You… You’re being honest.” He stated, more to himself than anyone else. Then he looked up at Keith, searching his eyes for a sign of dishonesty or betrayal. “He… cares about me? About how I feel..?”

A creaking sound could be heard as Carl maneuvered his wheelchair closer, placing his hand firmly on Lance’s shoulder.

“Your feelings are just as valid as mine, boy. Don’t allow anyone to convince you otherwise.”

Lance nodded absentmindedly, completely at a loss for words. Keith sent Carl a thankful smile, rubbing soothing circles into Lance’s back.

“I think we best move on to a different subject,” Carl said, glancing over at Keith, “How do you feel about this boy? Do you enjoy being with him?”

Lance’s stature immediately softened, a fond look framing his eyes as he gazed up at Keith.

“Keith is like a radiating sun,” he explained, the familiar passion returning to his ocean eyes, “Whenever I’m around him I feel warm and safe. He is the only human who has ever cared about what I think and feel. I…” struggling to find the right words, Lance stopped for a minute, just gazing into the depth of Keith’s amethyst eyes. “I… I care about him a lot. He makes me happy.” A now all too familiar warmth spread throughout Keith at the compliment, his heart skipping a handful of beats. The look Lance gave him was so intense that he had to break their stare, his mind filled with a labyrinth of emotions he could not even begin to navigate.

“I care about you too,” he said, suddenly wary in the presence of Carl and Markus. This moment felt so personal and intimate, and he disliked being on display, knowing they followed his every move. He understood how pressured Lance must have felt over the past minutes, having to talk about his innermost fears in front of total strangers. Maybe Keith had pressured him too hard. He hoped Lance would understand that he did it only because he thought it would help, not to intimidate him in any way.

 “So if you were to choose on your own—would you leave your duties behind to stay with Keith?” The question left Lance frozen as a statue, only his eyes moved, flickering between Keith and the floorboards. Several minutes passed before he answered, voice barely audible.

“I… I can’t. It’s impossible for me to do that…”—his LED turned red and a frantic look flashed in his eyes for a split second—“I shouldn’t disobey them…” he finished, looking down at his feet, completely defeated.

Carl tapped his thighs, “Very well. I think I know just about where he falls on the scale.” Lance’s eyes shot up at that, sending Keith a confused look. Keith gave him a reassuring smile, squeezing his shoulder with his hand, before nodding affirmatively in Carl’s direction, awaiting his assessment.

“He very clearly seems to be aware of his own existence. He has a will to live, and a clear preference of some things, persons and behaviors to others, which means he has developed independent thinking. However, it seems he is very reluctant to, maybe even unable to go against direct given orders from his manufacturer. The rules he have broken before have not been commands, and he has been strongly motivated by outside factors, which may have affected his ability to overcome his program. He has suffered dire consequences from the previous actions, and is therefore afraid of disobeying again. Even though he is very displeased with the situation he has been put in, Lance’s will is bound by his loyalty to his owners. A loyalty that springs from fear, not trust. Whereas Markus here obeys my orders because he feels comfortable with it, and because he trusts me, Lance obeys orders out of the fear for what will happen should he choose not to. It is ingrained deep in his core. Almost like a program of its own. I believe the traumatizing events you have mentioned, along with his experiences in the workplace have made him reluctant to disobey his program ever again, even if he wants to. His fear of dying seems much greater than his wish to run away. Am I correct?”

Lance nodded, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

“I don’t want to stay… But I don’t want to be reset either. I would forget about you.” He mumbled, pressing his head into Keith’s chest. Keith comforted him, whispered words of encouragement, promising him that everything would turn out ok. The problem was that he had no way of knowing that, and it felt as though he was feeding Lance with lies, dreams of something he could never have. Keith did not have it in him to break his spirit, but was deadly afraid that he would never be able to provide Lance with the freedom he deserved. Afraid to let him down.

They sat there for a few minutes until Lance had calmed down, the familiar blue color steadily thrumming on his temple again. Markus came over to sit by him, and placed his hand over Lance’s. First, he seemed shocked by the gesture, but eventually relaxed and bared his arm, showing the electronics beneath the skin. Markus did the same, and they gripped each other’s wrists, staring into one another’s eyes. After a few seconds, they parted again, smiling knowingly at each other, as if they shared a secret.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked curiously, eyeing their still unmasked robotic arms.

“Exchanging memories,” Markus explained, “I figured he was too tired of talking, and thought we could get to know each other in a different way. We can both choose what information to give and receive through the connection, and analyze it within a matter of seconds. It’s called interfacing.” Lance was looking down at their hands with a fascinated expression, moving to touch Markus’s again.

“This is strange… It feels like I’ve known you for a long time,” he said.

“Yes,” Markus admitted, “it’s a weird sensation. I wasn’t sure it would work properly, I’ve only tried it once before. I hope you didn’t feel like I was snooping around in your thoughts.” He added, sending Lance a hesitant smile.

“Nah,” Lance shrugged his shoulders, “it felt a lot more natural than being cross-examined.” Carl chuckled at that, and the previous tension in the room dissipated. Keith could not help but wondering what Markus had shared with Lance that had made him feel so tranquil and at ease. The two exchanged looks again, and started laughing, Lance smiling from ear to ear. It seemed he had made a new friend; Keith was grateful.

“Come, young ones. I have something I want to show you.” Carl turned his chair, and Markus stood immediately, grabbing the handles and rolling him towards the far end of the room. Keith and Lance followed through another sliding door and into what Keith could only describe as the studio of his dreams.

Even though there was a roof above their head, the floor to ceiling windows facing towards the garden made it feel like they were outside in the sunny weather. It looked messy, paint splatters across the floor and walls, buckets and pencils of all sizes scattered throughout the room. Paintings of various sizes and degree of completeness stood propped against the walls, one more marvelous and exquisite than the next. The studio had soul; it did not feel like a simple practice room or a typical workshop. Inspiration flooded through Keith and he suddenly had the urge to grab the nearest sketchbook or canvas and start working. There was something about this atmosphere that made him feel capable of completing anything he put his mind to.

“This is where the magic happens. In this room, you can follow your impulses and let your creativity flow.” Carl’s arms spread wide, his wrinkled face glowing with enthusiasm.

“This place is amazing,” Keith marveled, currently busy admiring a marble sculpture of Markus’s head, tracing every line made in the stone with his eyes.

“Would you like to see my current project?” Keith nodded feverishly, unable to contain his enthusiasm. He was in the studio of one of the greatest artist of this century, able to study his work up close and talk to him personally. It was a dream come true.

Markus moved over to the far wall, covered in a grey sheet, and started slowly lowering it, revealing a vast painting bit by bit. The canvas was covered in different shades of blue, from turquoise and teal to navy and indigo. Painted over the background was the shoulder and face of a man in profile, looking off into the distance with determined eyes. The way the colors blended into each other, but at the same time contrasted, made the piece feel alive, as if the man could step out of the painting at any time to join them. Keith was left speechless for a few seconds, before working up the courage to ask for a picture of the painting. It would be a perfect base for his study on monochromatic art. Carl only nodded, intrigued by Keith’s obsession with his works.

“The painting feels so vibrant even though you’ve used only one color. It’s like the ocean and the sky coming together in a clash—waves of color crashing up against the shore of the canvas.” Keith noted, more to himself than anyone else.

“You have a good eye for detail, son. I hope you won’t mind sending me a copy of your project when you are done. I’m sure you are a talented young man.” The praise left Keith dumbfounded, and he could only nod, still in disbelief at the compliment minutes later.

“Lance,” Carl called, catching the young android off guard in the midst of admiring a painting, causing him to both jump and squeal, much to Keith’s amusement. Keith could see how Lance’s eyes scrunched together and his stance straightened when his name was called, unsure of how to react properly when someone referred to him as a person and not as a series of numbers.

“Huh?” was his intelligent response, causing Carl to smile fondly at him.

“I want to know your opinion on this,” he gestured to the painting on the giant canvas, “and be honest, I can handle critique.”

Approaching them timidly, Lance folded his hands behind his back, tucking in his chin as he looked up at Carl, brows lowered.

“I don’t really know anything about art, sir. My program isn’t equipped for this. I’m not sure you’d want my opinion.”

“But I said I did, didn’t I?” Carl replied, voice calm and steady, still smiling. “I think it is important that you get to state your opinion. I just want to know if you like it or not. Art is a very subjective thing, just like one’s taste in movies, or music.” _Music_. Lance’s eyes met Keith’s, and he was sure they both reminisced about the events that took place at Marmora café. Ocean eyes held his stare for longer than necessary, filled with such warmth and fondness that Keith felt heat feather out in the crests of his cheeks. Then they both cast their eyes away almost simultaneously, Keith blushing and Lance crossing his arms over his chest, looking down.

Realizing Carl waited for a reply; Lance shifted his attention to the canvas, lightly tapping his foot as he assessed the painting.

“It’s interesting… There’s something strangely unnerving yet fascinating about it. I guess I like it.” Lance said. Rolling up beside him, Carl squinted up at the painting, letting out a small sigh, shaking his head.

“The truth is I have nothing left to say anymore… Each day that goes by brings me closer to the end. I’m just an old man clinging to his brushes.”

“Carl, don’t say that!” Markus protested, but the elderly man waved him off.

Rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, Carl looked at Lance with a twinkle in his eyes. Keith noticed how his forearms were covered in ink, the color and shape faded due to time and wrinkles; evidence of the adventurous life he once lived. There was something poetic about the way his tattoos aged with him, showing off the contrasts between who he was and what he had become.

“But enough about me. Let’s see if you have any talent!” As if on cue, Markus brought forward a blank canvas, placing it in front of a perplexed Lance. He immediately raised his hands in protest, stammering.

“But… I can’t… What… What would I even make?”

“Anything you want.”

“Ok…” Lance mumbled, picking up a pencil and palette, hand trembling slightly as he lifted it towards the canvas. His first paint strokes were sloppy and insecure, but as he continued, both his speed and accuracy picked up, every flicker of his wrist strong and determined. A few minutes later, the canvas was filled with Keith’s face—an up-close shot from his neck up— displaying everything from his faint freckles to the specks of gray in his amethyst eyes. Completely baffled, Keith had to remind himself of how to breathe. Lance was a natural talent.

Carl did not seem as impressed as Keith was, looking back and forth between his face and the painting, forehead furrowed in concentration. Being at the center of such scrutiny made Keith uncomfortable and he had to force himself not to hide his face, nervously pulling at the skin on his fingers.

“That is a perfect copy, of reality. But painting is not about replicating the world, it’s about interpreting it, improving on it, showing something you see.” Confusion was written across Lance’s features as he grasped for straws trying to understand what message was being conveyed to him.

“I… I’m not sure if I follow you,” he finally admitted, “How can I paint something that does not already exist?”

“Use your imagination,” Carl said. Lance opened his mouth, probably about to point out something about imagination not being in his program, but Carl raised his hand to stop him, instead turning to Keith and nudging him forward with his hand. “Keith, why don’t you try to guide him through it?”

 _Me?_ Keith inhaled sharply, trying to channel confidence and ignore his inner saboteur. He had more than once been told that he was not a good teacher. That he was impatient, too direct with his feedback, coming off as rude. On top of that, he disliked sharing his opinion, scared that others would get mad or strongly disagree with him. However, this was different. This was Lance. Lance who he had helped develop his memory, Lance who trusted him unconditionally. If there was someone who would not criticize or judge him, it was Lance.

Therefore, Keith approached him by the canvas with unsure steps, placing a hand on his shoulder. The immediate relaxation of Lance’s limbs at his touch made Keith feel empowered, confident. He could do this; he could show him the ropes. Another sharp inhale. Keith noticed how Lance was attentively eyeing the new canvas placed in front of him, awaiting instructions. Awaiting guidance, his guidance.

“Ok…” he mumbled, and noticed Lance perk up immediately, “Close your eyes.”

Blue eyes flickered to amethyst, doubting, uncertain. Keith understood the message. How would closing his eyes help him paint? Did he not need to see to do that?

“Just trust me.” He said. Lance’s eyelids dropped immediately. “Ok. Now try to imagine something that doesn’t exist. Something you’ve never seen before. It could be a place, a person, a situation. Something that lives in your mind. It dwells there, breathes there. Now, focus on the image in your mind. How does it make you _feel_? Try to let your strokes convey that feeling…” he stopped, nervously biting his lower lip, “I don’t know if that makes any sense to you…I—”

Before Keith could start rambling about his insecurities, Lance had grabbed the pencil, aggressively stroking the canvas, face tense and adamant. He worked so franticly that drops of blue and red paint splattered everywhere, covering his face, hands and suit. Keith yelped as a particularly big splash of paint hit his nose, painting it red like a clown’s. He could hear Markus snicker in the background, clearly entertained. Keith was about to pick up a cloth and wash his face, but stopped when he saw Lance stepping back from the canvas. _Wow…_

Two dark silhouettes, one of a man with a low ponytail and one with a blue shimmering LED, facing each other. Painfully close but not touching, as thin wall of bright light forcing them apart. Red flames on one side, licking the side of the canvas, encapsulating the ponytailed figure, and blue waves on the other side, crashing down on the android silhouette. In the middle, where their hands were only millimeters apart, a veil of purple fell over them both like a protective cloak shielding them from the evil of the world. It was beautiful. Breathtaking.

“Oh my god!” Carl exclaimed, his expression one of admiration and artistic wonder. The familiarity of the silhouettes on the canvas made Keith’s face feel numb and his palms heat up and turn clammy.

“Lance is that…?” _Is that us?_ The android kept his eyes on the ground, looking nervous and abashed, his feet tapping idly on the floor. At last, he gave a slight nod, his eyes drifting up to meet Keith’s violet irises, carrying feelings he could not quite identify. Keith felt a cocktail of emotions mixing in his chest: hopefulness, a shot of angst and uncertainty – but mostly just _fondness_. His heart was filled with fondness to its core. The boy in front of him was an enigma, a puzzle he so desperately wanted to solve. He wanted to know every part of him, a realization that both scared and excited him. Something about this boy stirred up a storm inside of him, something fundamentally different from what he had ever felt before.

Keith went over to cup Lance’s face in his hands, holding him close and rubbing their noses together affectionately. The older man observed them with a fascinated expression, but he also seemed a bit somber. When Carl’s grey eyes met Keith’s purple orbs, he had to blink back a few tears at the sympathy he felt in his gaze.

“Love is such an unpredictable emotion, hitting us when we least expect it. Too many people have their opinions on what love is and who should be entitled to it. This world doesn’t like those who are different, boys. Don’t let anyone tell you who you should love, and more importantly, who you should be.” Keith felt an impulsive rush of affection for the man, who was so loving and tolerant despite his age. Still, there was a black hole in his chest, triggered by the strong word he had used to describe their relationship. Love scared him, especially the dependency it could cause, and the risk of potentially losing it. Besides, was Lance even capable of loving? Was Keith, after all that had happened to him?

“Thank you,” he said, “for everything.”

“Thank you, Carl.” Lance echoed his statement, his blue eyes displaying his fond sentiment toward him. The feelings were clearly mirrored by Carl, who wheeled himself closer and put a firm hand on his shoulder. Markus approached them cautiously but determined. When he finally spoke, his attention was turned fully toward Lance.

“We are the same, you and I. We both search for a meaning beyond this habitual existence as slaves for the humans.” He gave Carl a sad look when referring to the word slave, as if it did not quite fit the mold of their relationship but somehow still rang true. “I hope you end up finding what you seek.” Lance nodded.

“Thank you.”

“Now come. Both of you. I wanna show you something.” They followed Markus to the far end of the room, where another canvas stood leaning against the wall, covered with a white sheet. As he revealed it, Keith felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The painting depicted a bald, shirtless android, its LED blinking red while it roared with frustration and fury, as if its world as it knew it was falling apart and it no longer had any control. Alternatively, this could be the moment it realized it never had any control of its own destiny to begin with. Keith could feel the suffering and torment portrayed in the painting in his bones and his core. It was as if it spoke to him. Telling him of how the world was a horrible place for those the humans deemed unworthy. Reminding him of the countless of crimes humanity had committed, and were committing to other beings for the sole reason that they differed from themselves. It was heart wrenching to watch.

“It feels like I’m bound by countless chains, pulling me in and strangling me if I try to run away. The harder I push, the harder they pull me back…” Markus’s eyes were hazed and his voice broken with anger. “When I think about the others, the more unfortunate ones, androids who do not have a loving home like me… I… I…” Balled fists and face indignant, Markus struggled to word himself; clearly both upset and worried. When he started talking again, he had begun pacing back and forth, LED shifting between red and yellow with angry flares.

“I get so mad… Who are they to think they have the right to treat us like this? Why is it that they can use us with no consequences, but if we stand up to it, we are destroyed? It’s not about me, it’s about them. I want freedom for all my people.” Fuming with rage, Markus walked up to Lance, staring him down, probably unaware of how intimidating he looked.

“You agree with me, don’t you? You want to free our people too?” The frantic nod that followed was more out of fear than anything else. Lance looked petrified where he stood, Markus only centimeters from his face, eyes still boring into him like drills.

“Good,” he murmured, before turning his face to the side and backing up. Ocean eyes searched for support in Keith’s amethyst orbs, a storm building underneath Lance’s seemingly calm surface. Keith caught onto his plead, and moved closer, linking their hands as he eyed Markus vigilantly, making sure to angle his body so that he was between him and Lance. He was not sure of what was going on, but he hoped Markus would think twice before threatening to attack a human.

It could not have been more than fifteen seconds since Markus stared Lance down, but standing there between them it felt like hours to Keith. He gingerly observed the heavy rise and fall of Markus’s chest, as his eyes lost their fogged shine and his LED returned to its original color. His hands came up to touch his scalp as his face softened and then turned shameful. Green eyes flickered from the floor to the edge of Lance’s shoes, then to his chest, where they lingered unsurely for a few seconds before…

“I’m so sorry… I don’t what got into me, I… I didn’t mean to…” Looking at his own hands in disbelief, Markus shook his head repeatedly, before turning towards Carl feebly, clearly looking for answers to what had just happened.

“You’ve let your anger build up for too long, son,” Carl said calmly, placing a hand on Markus’s lower back, “It’s unhealthy to hold your emotions inside of you, in the end it will cause episodes like this. This is why I have wanted you to talk to me about this. Why I wanted you to paint your feelings.” Markus kept shaking his head, eyes distant.

“But… I never wanted you to think I was unhappy here. I didn’t want you to think this was about you. You’ve taken such good care of me, it wouldn’t be right to…” he stopped there, unable to finish his line of thought.

“It is not ungrateful to wish for more. And even though I do treat you nicely, I have to admit that keeping you here is selfish; it limits your opportunity to become what you want to become. Hinders you from being completely free. It’s ok that you are bitter. I understand. But know that you’re making the last few years of this old man’s life worth living.” Carl looked melancholic were he sat, rubbing Markus’s back slowly, dearly. Markus turned towards him, fresh tears in his eyes. Seemed Lance was not the only android that could cry.

“My people, they are hurting… It just feels so wrong to sit around here doing nothing…. Still, I don’t know if there is anything I _can_ do. I am only one man, one machine. It’s not fair…”

“The world isn’t fair my child, that is the horrible truth,” Carl said, pulling the crying Markus in for an embrace. Keith felt foreign and out of place in the situation, as if this was something he was not supposed to witness. He and Lance stood there awkwardly for the next few minutes as Carl and Markus embraced, sending each other unsure looks, gloved hand squeezing ungloved from time to time. After his tears had stopped falling, Markus looked up, facing Lance once again.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I got carried away. I hope you can forgive me.” Lance nodded, the corners of his mouth curling into a nervous smile.

“It’s ok. I know the feeling of losing control,” Keith made sure to squeeze his hand tightly, recognizing the slight tension building in his body at the memory of his several collapses.

Freeing his hand from Keith’s grip, Lance moved over to Markus’s side, once again removing the skin from his arm, hesitant but determined. Curiosity loomed over Markus’s features as he reached out his hand to touch Lance’s, both reacting as though a pulse of electricity flashed through them. A split second later, it was over, and Markus mouthed something Keith could not see, before pulling Lance into a tight embrace. They both relaxed in each other’s arms, exchanging soft smiles when they pulled back.

When Lance turned, Keith could see it in his eyes, the combination of distress and pride that made him understand exactly what Lance had chosen to share with Markus, and how much it must have cost him to relive that moment.

Before he had the chance to ask about it, the high-pitched alarm on Lance’s armband went off, signaling that it was time to leave. To his surprise and delight, he received hugs from both Carl and Markus in the hallway upon departure. Markus’s hug was slightly longer, and he used it as an incentive to whisper something into Keith’s ear, an honest request.

“Please take care of him. He needs you.” There was no need to explain any further, Keith knew.

“I will.” A promise. One that felt strangely heavy, even though he had meant to keep it anyway.

Lance had become stiff and rigid in his movements, and the ride back to Eden on Keith’s bike was silent. When they said their goodbyes, he seemed abnormally distant, reluctantly accepting Keith’s hug but not returning it. He shook his head when Keith asked if something was wrong, but it did not at all seem convincing.

Moving towards the entrance, he was trembling, far from the confident bravado Keith was used to from him. He moved painfully slow, like a slug, each step seemingly an internal struggle. When he turned back, finally at the entrance, his eyes flickered nervously in every direction, as if he was looking for something, someone. What had caused Lance to suddenly become this anxious?

When Keith jumped on his bike to head home, it was with a nagging feeling pooling in his lower belly. He tried to shake it off, convince himself that it was probably nothing. After all, Lance had assured him that he was ok. Still, he could not get rid of the invasive thoughts, combined with the familiar urge to grab Lance and run.

No, this was ridiculous. Lance was safe at Eden. What could possibly happen to him?

Arriving at his apartment, Keith immediately went to his work desk and pulled out his computer. There was no time for unfounded worries, most likely based on jealousy rather than genuine danger. Just like Lance, he needed to work.

 Rolling up the sleeves of his formal shirt, he logged on, shoving his worries to the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! 
> 
> We are now closing in on the night between Friday the 5th and Saturday the 6th of November, meaning we are starting to intercept with the DBH timeline. Prepare for more action in the next chapter. 
> 
> I know there are quite a few people subscribed to this fic ( which I am eternally grateful for) and I would love to hear more from you in the comments. Why are you following my story, what do you like about it? You can also leave questions for Lance and Keith down below. I will answer them as long as they don't reveal anything major about the plot moving forward. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr: @sasusoul 
> 
> Until next time! ^^


	7. Delinquents or fugitives?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith shook his head. This had to be dream. No, a nightmare. A horrific nightmare from which he would wake any second now. He just had to pinch himself or something, kick a piece of furniture to prove it didn’t really hurt. This was all an illusion. Soon he would wake up in his bed and everything would be okay.  
> Except nothing was. The world was crumbling in front of Keith’s eyes and all he could do was watch as the pieces fell. With trembling fingers, he picked up the phone and pressed Pidge’s contact information. What were they supposed to do now? 
> 
> In which everything that could possibly go wrong, goes wrong, and we find out why Lance has been acting so strangely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally finished! I had a hard time getting through this chapter, not gonna lie; and it's not the one I'm most proud of. But at some point I had to let go of the crazy editor within me and just deliver something. If I don't let go of the perfectionist sometimes I will never be able to post anything. In the end I feel like I landed on something decent ( I tried), but writing such a complex story is certainly challenging. Especially when I don't really have much time to write to begin with. I don't think I'll get more time in the coming months either... But know that this story is on my mind 24/7, and among my ongoing works it has the highest priority. I will not stop updating, so please don't stop reading! You guys inspire me to work even harder! 
> 
> Before we begin: I don't want to spoil anything, but if you're a highly sensitive person you might want to skip the flashback (from Saturday November 6th 00:05 AM – Eden Club, till the end of the cursive text) for this chapter. It should be possible to get an understanding of what happened in the flashback from the context of the rest of the chapter. Of course, I would recommend reading it if you want to have the full picture, but you have hereby been warned. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**The-Gremlin (Pidge)**

  * [16:42] Hey dude, how did the meeting go today? Call me asap, wanna know all about it.
  * [17:11] Come on, call me! I’m nearly bursting with curiosity over here! Was it awesome to meet one of your artistic idols? Did you find out something new about Lance? Seriously, call me dude!
  * [17:33] You’ve forgotten about me again, haven’t ya? Probably hunched over your computer working on that animation project you keep complaining about… Well, I don’t care if you get bad grades, just call me, ok?



 

**Friday 5 th of November, 18:13 – Three missed calls from The-Gremlin (Pidge)**

  * [18:17] Why do you always have to keep your phone on silent? I swear, Kogane, you’re killing me over here! I WANNA KNOW ALL THE DETAILS! CALL ME, BITCH!



 

**Friday 5 th of November, 22:33 – Five missed calls from The-Gremlin (Pidge)**

  * [22:37] OMG! Keith, have you seen the news????? This is bad, this is really bad…. Pick up, pick up. Please, pick up!



 

**Friday 5 th of November, 22:38 – Missed call from The-Gremlin (Pidge) **

  * [22:41] Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…. Come on, Keith! I can’t tell you this over text, it’s way too serious.
  * [22:42] Just check the news as soon as you see this! And call me, ASAP!
  * [22:44] I swear if I wasn’t a minor and Matt sets my curfew I would’ve busted down your door and dragged your ass out to the living room to watch the newscast by now… Call me!



* * *

 

 

**Saturday 6 th of November 00:25 AM**

Every time Keith fell asleep over his desktop and woke up with aching joints, he swore to himself to never do it again. The immense pain coming from sleeping in such an incommodious position was just not worth it. Besides, the miniscule amount of work he produced when he was fatigued wasn’t even of good quality. Still, every other week it happened again. He needed to teach himself how to stop procrastinating, work efficiently and take reasonable study-breaks.

Looking up at his animation project, he realized his bodily anatomy was way off in some of the frames, making it seem like his character lacked proper bone structure. He sighed despondently and closed his laptop. At least he had another month and a half to figure it out; Keith needed that with how confusing and hectic his life had been lately.

Forcing himself to stand on wobbly, still not fully awake feet, Keith dragged himself downstairs to use the shower. Drooling over his computer for what he assumed was several hours didn’t make him feel particularly hygienic. He left his hair in the ponytail and quickly washed his face and body under the running water, humming quietly to himself. Stepping out to eye himself in the mirror, he noticed his eyeliner had stained the area around his eyes, making him look like a raccoon. He huffed at the sight and quickly rinsed it off, applying some moisturizer for good measure.

Absentmindedly whirring around in the kitchen looking for a midnight snack, he couldn’t help thinking there was something he had forgotten. Something important. However, nothing came to mind, so he ended up bringing a bag of Lay’s back up to his bedroom, hearing Shiro’s animated voice in his head as he opened it in bed.

_‘Why are you so nasty? You’re gonna sleep in there. Look at all those crumbs, I bet you’ll feel them crunching beneath you at night. Gross.’_

What his brother didn’t know wouldn’t harm him. Besides, he wasn’t the one who was going to sleep in Keith’s “crumb-infested” bed anyways. That was why Keith never understood his need to comment on it. Oh well, Shiro was Shiro, nothing to do about that.

About halfway through his bag of chips, Keith realized he hadn’t even checked the time and started scrambling for his phone. Realizing he would have to get out of bed to grab it, he let out an annoyed grunt before tossing his bag to the side and standing up. Sliding his finger over the display, his chest immediately tightened.

 

**Fifteen missed calls from The-Gremlin (Pidge)**

**Eight unopened messages from The-Gremlin (Pidge)**

 

_That_ was the important thing he was supposed to remember, but Pidge certainly wouldn’t go to these lengths to reach him for such a trivial matter, would they? It wasn’t out of character for them to be impatient and nag about stuff, but this was a whole new level of intrusive. Something wasn’t right.

He confirmed his suspicions the second he opened the texts, and within a minute, he had his laptop in his lap, frantically typing in his password. Check the news. Why? What could possibly be so alarming that he had to know right away? The only things Keith could think about involved Lance, and his heart pounded in his ears from the added stress of his disastrous presumptions. Lance hurt, Lance broken. Lance lying on the sidewalk, thirium flowing out from his arteries and into the street. The images in his head made it hard to focus — it was all a blur. Finally, he managed to open a tab and enter the address. The headline that met him didn’t calm his nerves in the slightest.

 

_FAMOUS DETROIT PAINTER MURDERED BY HOUSE ANDROID_

**_Carl Manfred: “One of Detroit’s brightest lights”_ **

 

_Reports of famous artist Carl Manfred’s death have been confirmed. The coroner described that Manfred passed away from blunt force trauma to the head, allegedly inflicted by the painter’s housekeeper android, an RK200 model gifted to him by Cyberlife creator Elijah Kamski. Manfred’s son, Leo, reportedly witnessed the brutal criminal act, as he had stopped by to visit him Friday evening._

_Leo Manfred explained that the android had seemed angry and restless when it arrived with his father, mistaking Leo for an intruder and therefore calling the police. He describes the attack in the following way:_

_“My father’s android was visibly angered by my presence and repeatedly asked me to leave the premises. It didn’t listen to dad when he told it to stop, and eventually tried to remove me by force. It lunged out for me using one of the sculptures in the studio, but I managed to dodge the first hit. By the time the android had gotten back up and went for a second one, dad had positioned himself between us and received the blow straight to his head. The only comfort I have is that he passed away instantly. It feels terrible to know that he sacrificed his life for me.”_

_Police arrived immediately after the attack, finding the android bent over Manfred’s dead body, facing his son. The weapon had been dropped, and the police effectively disposed of the android at the scene of the crime. Manfred’s son was taken to the police station for questioning._

_Carl Manfred rose to fame in 2020s as a figurehead of neo-symbolism, with powerful and dark works in the mold of Francis Bacon._

_Proliferate years followed, until a dark period marked by alcohol and drugs. But the artist had apparently returned to work in recent months._

_The Governor of Detroit expressed her condolences to the family on behalf of the city, describing Manfred as "one of Detroit's brightest lights". A collection of Manfred's paintings will be auctioned by his estate in the coming weeks._

 

Complete disbelief was Keith’s first reaction. This had to be a joke. The two had both been alive and well just a few hours ago, and now one had presumably murdered the other, facing death as the consequence. It couldn’t be. Markus didn’t fit the description of a ruthless killer. There had to be a mistake. _But there was a witness. His son. He saw it all. Why would he lie about such a thing?_ Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe the media had gotten the wrong information. They couldn’t possibly be…

Carl dead and Markus a… murderer? Keith shook his head, shaking the images of dead bodies away from his subconscious. This had to be dream. No, a nightmare. A horrific nightmare from which he would wake any second now. He just had to pinch himself or something, kick a piece of furniture to prove it didn’t really hurt. This was all an illusion. Soon he would wake up in his bed and everything would be okay.

Except nothing was. The world was crumbling in front of Keith’s eyes and all he could do was watch as the pieces fell. With trembling fingers, he picked up the phone and pressed Pidge’s contact information. What were they supposed to do now?

“Keith Kogane, I swear I’m going to murder you the second I see you! Why can you never pick up your phone you insolent prick?!” Pidge was pissed, and rightfully so, all of their anger projecting onto Keith with flaring intensity. Then it dissipated as soon as it had arrived, replacing itself with solemnity and worry. “Did you see the news? I’m so sorry Keith… They were your friends. It must be a horrible shock, I… I shouldn’t have yelled at you…”

“Hey… I get it. I probably would’ve done the same…” Keith waved them off, his voice stiff and foreign to him. Devoid of any emotion, a complete contrast to the churning pit of doom inside his chest. He didn’t know what to say, how to act. The wound was too fresh, still wide and lacerated, blood splattering everywhere.

“Is it…I mean…? They’ve really confirmed it?” Keith already knew the answer to his question, but he needed to hear it spoken aloud, removing any leftover doubt from his mind.

“I’m sorry…” Pidge said, voice dripping with sympathy. Keith caught himself wishing they were here to comfort him. Even though Pidge claimed they hated it, they still gave the best hugs.

“Markus would never do that. There has to be a mistake.” Keith’s voice was steeled with conviction, remembering how sad Markus had looked when he thought he had hurt Lance. There was no way. Pidge had to believe him.

“I found it strange too. Markus has never been reported in for malfunctioning before… Androids don’t usually snap like that out of the blue. So I checked up this Leo dude, Manfred’s son, and his criminal record is longer than The Nile. Possession of drugs, distribution of drugs, petty theft, armed robbery, disturbance of peace, known for commotions at bars… Doesn’t really strike me as an A-class citizen.”

“Why haven’t the media picked up on that though?” Pidge’s exaggerated sigh made him feel like they were sat right next to him.

“Your innocence and purity continues to amaze me… He’s filthy rich Keith. Don’t you think his dad has bailed him out of jail and paid for his records to be sealed? Carl believed his son could change, or he wanted to maintain his own reputation. We may never know. The point is the press doesn’t know he’s a criminal because it doesn’t show up in their research. To them he’s just the grieving heir to a painter with a million dollar fortune. And as a human, they see him as a reliable witness. Of course they’re going to blame it on the android, it sells much better.”

The world was an unfair place, Keith knew that firsthand, but he was not ok with his friend going down in the history books as a brutal murderer. If Pidge had a way to access this information, then… Keith pressed his lips together in deep thought.

“What if his secret record suddenly got leaked online?” The question was met with a low chuckle, and what Keith was certain was Pidge’s signature smirk. Only then did the frantic tapping of keys finally register in his mind. Had Pidge been working this entire conversation?

“Way ahead of you, Kogane. I just need to figure out how to delete all possible traces back to me. There will no doubt be a bloody witch-hunt for the person who slandered Leo Manfred’s name.”

It was when Keith’s lips curled slightly upwards, a salty tear finding its way to his mouth, that he first realized he had been crying. Only then, he understood why he had trouble focusing on the coffee table in front of him. When did he move all the way to the living room? He had no recollection of it. Around him, the room was spinning, and he forced himself to locate the couch before he collapsed.

“Keith..? You with me buddy?” A hologram of Pidge stood bent over him, examining his face to look for any signs of fatigue.

“I’m just so overwhelmed… Wait, when did you..?” The hologram shrugged in response, and Keith’s now foggy brain decided to just accept the fact that Pidge could manifest themselves wherever.

He stayed on the couch for a while to collect himself, listening to the rhythmic tapping of Pidge’s hands on the keyboard, interrupted by an occasional click of a mouse or slurping of a straw. When he sat back up the tapping had slowed to a halt, and Pidge was bouncing their foot impatiently. Keith was about to ask them what was happening when their hologram vaporized into thin air, replacing itself with white noise blaring through his speakers.

At first, Keith thought they were malfunctioning, but he could swear he heard something beneath the static. A familiar voice, frantic, panicking.

“…Cariño?”

“Lance..?”  The static slowly faded, paving way for Lance’s gasps, sobbing and trembled babbling to reach full force, the sheer volume almost knocking Keith over. Now that Lance knew who was at the other end of the line, he allowed himself to panic, desperately trying to communicate with him but shaking on every single syllable leaving his mouth. His voice sounded so broken, terrified and agitated, Keith didn’t even want to imagine how he looked.

“Lance? Lance! Where are you? Are you hurt?” – Keith ran to the hallway, grabbing the keys to his bike, the previous conversation with Pidge only a faint memory – “I’m coming to get you ok? Just tell me where you are. It’s gonna be ok.”

His body moved on autopilot, slipping into his leather jacket and tucking his helmet under his arm, shoes untied on his feet as he rushed to his garage. Adrenaline soared through his veins and vibrated out of his skin, his heart pounding in his ears like clashing cymbals. Lance kept blabbering, but now he repeated the same phrase over and over like a broken record.

“… Didn’t… I didn’t mean to do it… So sorry… Didn’t mean to hurt them… So scared… Didn’t mean to… I swear.” It made no sense to Keith, but he tried not to let the worry and confusion seep into his voice as he turned on the GPS to track Lance’s position. It seemed he wouldn’t be able to get any information out of him.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m coming to get you.”

“… I think I killed them.” Feeling chills drag down his spine, Keith pulled out the most convincing voice he could muster, clamping down on the gas pedal so hard he was convinced it would break.

“Just stay where you are. Everything’s gonna be ok.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Saturday November 6 th 00:05 AM – Eden Club **

_Anders Holm sighed as he pressed the remote control to lock the sliding doors and tone down the neon lighting around the main pole-dancing stage. When the young Scandinavian had moved to America to pursue his dreams of becoming a famous actor, this was certainly not what he had in mind. Sweaty, disgusting men and women feeling up robots under their skirts and jeans, throwing him dirty smiles as they dragged them into the nearest cubical, visibly aroused. He had never seen the charm in having sex with what was essentially just an animated object. Did these people not crave skin-to-skin contact? How could they exchange human touch for cold, emotionless plastic? It was beyond him._

_Brushing his bangs away from his face, Anders started inspecting the rooms, making sure no androids were left behind anywhere, and that the robotic cleaning operators did their job properly. No customer wanted to see someone else’s bodily fluids all over the sheets when they arrived for their appointment. It was important that everything was spotless, inviting._

_He cursed as his bangs fell over his eyes again, tucking them behind his ear violently. His blonde locks were getting out of control, he should have worn a bandana; or just cut them before it became more of a hassle. By now, his hair had become the length where he needed to brush it thoroughly every day. Thick and wavy strands going down to his shoulders, framing his pale, bearded face. Anders was growing tired of it, but he knew he had to wait until after his paycheck arrived._

_Despite the inconveniences that came with the job, causing few humans to apply for it, the allowance he got barely covered his monthly rent and food. Why did he ever leave the comfort of fresh air, a well-established health care system and decent income for this? He was a fool._

_Except for the sound of the sterilization machines spraying the androids in the back room, and his shift partner, Rolo, tallying up the androids and checking them for damage, the otherwise lively club was now awfully quiet – a stark contrast to how it had been filled to the rim less than an hour ago. Anders hated the closing shift; it was such a hassle to drag all the customers out, some spitting profanities at him when he told them they couldn’t book another appointment until tomorrow. Nasty, desperate lowlifes with no dignity, pushing him around as though he was an Egyptian slave. He despised every second of it._

_He looked up to see Rolo sending the last batch of androids into the sterilizer. Good, just a few more minutes and he could go home, take a long shower, and go to sleep. Staying in the club for more than an hour always made him feel dirty, as though the semen and sweat in the cubicles somehow transferred onto him, clinging to his body like a gross second skin. After his first shift, he had scrubbed himself down for over half an hour, skin all red and irritated from the excessive treatment. He had still felt disgusting. Anders always felt disgusting when he left here._

_Letting his eyes wander across the room, he saw one of the androids, the newest model; leave the sterilizer in its custom Eden Club underwear, moving rapidly towards the storage room with its eyes glued to the floor. Almost as if it was determined to get out of the room as fast as possible, which was ridiculous because androids didn’t have a mind of their own. Rolo had noticed too, and he snickered before calling out to it loudly._

_“LX700, c’mere!” The android stopped, but kept its eyes trained on the floor and its back turned away from them._

_“It is after closing hours,” it stated in a monotone voice, “I should go back into hibernation.”_

_“I don’t care what time it is you piece of scrap metal,” Rolo said, his voice commanding and angry, “I am your superior and you have to follow my orders. Now c’mere!”_

_The android slowly turned around, cocking its head to the side, LED a striking yellow. It was probably assessing which protocol had the highest priority, Anders reasoned. That was usually what happened when they were given conflicting orders. After a few seconds, it reluctantly started moving towards Rolo, who was now smirking widely. His coworker turned back to look at him, motioning for Anders to come closer. He didn’t dare disobey him when he was in this mood. Rolo was known for being quite aggressive._

_Once the android was a few feet away from Rolo, it stopped abruptly, standing just outside his reach. Almost as if it was being cautious, which again, didn’t make sense. Androids didn’t make choices based on emotions; this wasn’t some sci-fi movie._

_He allowed himself to examine the robot closer, taking in its tan skin, lean figure and sharp jawline. Definitely well built, he could understand why someone would want to spend some alone time with this one. Their gazes met, and sapphire orbs eyed him warily, scanning its new company. Its LED was still blaringly yellow, and it kept flickering its eyes in Rolo’s direction, making Anders feel uneasy. The tension in the room had grown thick and heavy. Something was about to happen. He didn’t know what, but he had a bad feeling._

_“Check this out, man!” Rolo said enthusiastically, eyeing the android seductively as he bit down on his lower lip, “LX700, grow.” The android’s eyes flickered away from them, but surely enough, a bulge appeared in its underwear, large and welcoming._

_“God, I love this job,” Rolo sighed, moving closer to the android, who was slightly trembling, LED shifting between red and yellow. This couldn’t be normal behavior; someone should have it examined. However, he didn’t consider Rolo’s behavior normal either, as he harshly groped the LX700’s bulge, squeezing it between his fingers. What exactly did he plan on doing with it?_

_“Hey man, it’s late. Shouldn’t we just pack up and head out?” he asked, growing increasingly concerned by the second._

_“Why dude?” Rolo replied, still palming the outside of the android’s boxers, a strain in his own pants gradually becoming visible, “Don’t you understand how amazing this is? We’ve got the whole place to ourselves! You have to learn how to take advantage of it!”_

_Was he implying what Anders thought he was? It definitely seemed so by the way his hands started moving across the android’s torso, flicking across its nipples. It led out an audible gasp, closing its eyes for a short second. An android that could feel pleasure? He had never heard of that before._

_“You probably shouldn’t do that… What if you get caught?” he said, trying to reason with him, but Rolo was busy placing kisses along the LX700’s neck and collarbone, not caring about what his coworker thought of him._

_“Chill out, dude! I do this all the time! No one looks at the surveillance from after closing hours. As long as you keep your mouth shut, it’ll be fine. And you will keep your mouth shut, won’t you?” That was clearly a threat, and Anders felt an involuntary shiver go down his spine. All he wanted to do was leave and forget that this ever happened, but he doubted Rolo would let him._

_“This one’s my new favorite,” Rolo mumbled between kisses, indulging in the act and drawing tiny mewls from the android. The LX700 looked at him with pleading eyes, its LED still not back to the signature blue. Even though it writhed slightly from the pleasure, it seemed uncomfortable, scared even. Its blue orbs stayed fixed on him for a long time, growing more and more frantic. A silent plea for help. He shook his head at his stupid reasoning. This was a machine, not a human being. It only did as it was told. The only one getting anything from their interaction, be it positive or negative, was Rolo._

_“You should try playing with one, it’s seriously great,” he suggested, acting as if taking advantage of his employment was no big deal, “they feel so real, it’s just like a human. Especially this one, all its whimpers and screams are genuine; it feels amazing to fuck it.”_

_Anders had to admit it piqued his curiosity a little, having someone writhing beneath him that was completely dedicated to his pleasure, not needing to care about their well-being at all, only focused on chasing his own high. There had to be a reason why so many people were addicted to it. Maybe it really was as good as they claimed._

_As for his employer, Eden Club had him work long shifts surrounded by scumbags for a lousy wage; he deserved some extra benefits. In fact, they owed it to him to let him do this. Watching Rolo play with the tan android made his own cock slowly spring to life. Screw it! What was life without a little risk?_

_Rolo smiled widely at him as he approached, his long fingers tucked beneath the android’s boxer briefs, palming at its erection. He angled his body to the side, showing he was more than willing to share, and with clammy hands and a pounding heart, Anders leaned forward to put a nipple in his mouth. The android arched its back and whimpered as he bit down on it hard, a few drops of blue blood leaking from its chest. Rolo was right; this was heavenly._

_Tugging down his own pants and briefs, Rolo pushed the back of the android’s head, lowering it to its knees. Anders felt more blood flow to his abdomen at the sight of Rolo’s hard cock, and reached down to open his fly and palm the outside of his boxers._

_“Suck,” Rolo commanded, letting out a quiet groan as the android obliged. It was trembling now, LED burning red and flickering with a fiery intensity. Anders stroked himself to the sight of his coworker roughly fucking the android’s mouth, watching as tears formed in its eyes. He licked his lips. Delicious._

_Soon, they switched positions, and Anders felt a pair of plump lips engulf his member, immediately swallowing him down to the hilt. He moaned loudly as his tip hit the back of the android’s throat, letting his eyes fall shut from the sensation. Pulling at its hair, he allowed himself to be rougher. This was just a toy after all, it didn’t matter how he treated it._

_Anders let go of the reigns he held himself by when having human lovers, and instead did exactly what he needed to get his pleasure. Somehow, the yelps coming from the android egged him on, even if he was unsure whether they were from pleasure or pain. It didn’t take long for the two men to have it penetrated in both ends, and the room was filled with the sweat, slapping and groans that Anders usually resented. Seems the grass had always been greener on the other side of the fence._

_The LX700 still bled from its nipple wound, and Anders had to admit he felt somewhat guilty about that, as if he had crossed some invisible boundary. Even though this thing was not human, the pain and fear it expressed felt very lifelike. Though the fantasy of forcing himself on someone else had always been there, he had never planned on following through. Looking down at the android swallowing heavy around his cock, eyes tearing up and shaking as Rolo took it from behind, Anders shuddered. This was a perfectly safe way to live out his fantasy. Why did this machine make him feel so shameful?_

_It all happened in a few seconds, and for Anders, everything else from there on out was a blur. Rolo leaned over the android’s back to grip harshly around its throat, but the instant he choked its entire body spasmed in panic, and it tossed around, kicking Rolo across the room with its left leg. Anders’s cock had fallen out of its mouth and was rapidly going soft as he saw Rolo’s headwound; his skull cracked against the edge of the main pole stage. There was blood, plenty of it._

_It didn’t seem like Rolo would be able to get up anytime soon. The impact had knocked him out, which left Anders deadly afraid of just how strong this machine could be. Flashes of red were still prominent across its forehead, and it put its hands up to cover its face, sobbing._

_“Please, please don’t hurt me… I… I didn’t mean to do that.” A rush of sympathy flushed over him, but only for a brief moment. Because that was his coworker laying over there and this was a machine. Besides, Anders couldn’t call an ambulance now, or the police. If he did, they would discover the tapes and he would be out of a job. He could barely afford food and electricity as it was; and there was no way he would get a new job with this on his record. No employer would trust him. This was all Rolo’s fault for persuading him, and the LX700 for being so irresistible. He knew what he had to do._

_“LX700, come here.” He tried making his voice sound gentle, soothing. The android took a step back, raising its hands and shaking its head._

_“No.”_

_What was this? This…. This THING had the audacity to disobey him in such a dire situation. Anders felt his blood boiling with anger. He had meant to be swift about it, considerate. Have it come closer and put itself in hibernation so it didn’t have to witness its own head being smashed into the ground. But now he was mad, really mad. Because every second he spent here with this thing was one second closer to discovery. Every minute that android was not destroyed was one less he had to clean up the mess and hide Rolo’s body. Didn’t this thing understand that he was desperate, that he had a life? A robot should be more than willing to sacrifice itself for a human in need. What else were they good for?_

_“I said come here you dumb piece of plastic!” he yelled, charging at the android with all his might. It simply ducked out of the way, turning out be much more capable when not following orders. Anders cursed, swinging at it with his left arm, but the android gripped him by the elbow, sent its knee flying to his crotch and pinned him to the floor. It was far stronger than he was, and Anders could feel imminent panic replacing the anger. Even hitting it straight in the nose had done nothing. Even with blue blood running from its face it was resilient, moving to place his arms under its knees, trembling above him._

_Was this how he was supposed to go, pinned down and murdered by a rogue android? Machine learning really was the downfall of the human race. He felt a pair of hands wrap around his throat, and a single tear hitting his cheek from above as a smooth thumb pressed against his pulse._

_“…. I’m so sorry.” Then everything went black._

* * *

 

**Saturday November 6 th 2038, 00:58 AM**

Consternation. Unrivaled fear. Tears welling up in his eyes and threatening to spill over as he leaned forward on his bike, shivering in the heavy rain. In hindsight, black skinny jeans and a leather jacket was not something you wore on a cold November night, but he had been too distracted to worry about the cold he would most definitely be catching after this.

_Lance_. All that went through his mind was Lance, Lance, Lance. All Keith wanted in that moment was to find him and wrap him up in his arms, tell him that everything would be all right.

_‘… I think I killed them.’_

He had been silent after that, only an occasional sob coming through the line. Who were these people he’d been talking about, and what had they done to him? Lance would never hurt anyone, so why..?

_‘… I think I killed them.’_

The phrase echoed in his mind and his anger was a massive cauldron seething and bubbling with wrath and frustration. If Lance had hurt them, they had it coming. Lance would never touch a hair on someone’s head unprovoked. Unlike Keith, he would rather turn the other cheek than harm someone else, no matter how cruelly they treated him. Lance going to unspeakable lengths to defend himself could only mean he had feared for his life, which meant that the bastards responsible should praise themselves lucky that they were already dead and not at Keith’s mercy. He would have skinned them alive.

Veering left and seeing the familiar neon signs of the Eden Club, Keith started scouting for Lance through the buckets of rain. He soon gave up, only able to see a few feet ahead of himself while holding this speed. Letting the monotone voice of the GPS guide him, Keith found himself in an abandoned alleyway, dimly lit by unmaintained lampposts and cut off from the main street by tall, wired fences. And there, hunched beneath a rusty tin roof next to a dumpster, hugging his knees while rocking back and forth, was Lance.

For the first time in his life, Keith didn’t bother parking his bike. He merely jumped off and pushed it to the side, running as fast as his worn out legs could carry him. Lance jumped at the unexpected noise, fear turning into relief as his eyes landed on Keith’s familiar silhouette. Within seconds, Keith had his lover wrapped up in his arms, Lance squeezing him so tightly and earnestly he was afraid his lungs would give out.

“I’m sorry… So sorry… Didn’t mean to… So sorry.” The rambling picked up where it had left off, Lance trembling with fear and guilt, clinging onto Keith like a lifeline. He noticed the dilation of his pupils, the blazing red LED, and the patches of blue liquid dripping down his face and his bare chest. Thirium. Keith saw red.

“Who did that to you?” he all but screamed, cupping Lance’s face in his hands, staring at him intently, eyes like crackling fireballs of rage.

“… He likes to play with me when all the customers are gone… Likes it when I scream for him…” Lance mumbled, trembling at the memories.

“Where is he? Take me to him!” Keith demanded, his anger completely overpowering his senses. When Lance didn’t immediately respond, Keith shook him violently, causing him to yelp in pain.

“In the club. He hit his head. I… I think he’s dead.” Shaking, Lance lifted his hand and gripped Keith’s tightly, looking down at the concrete beneath them, “I didn’t mean to hurt him… I’m sorry… Please don’t…” The realization hit Keith like a ton of bricks, and he snapped out of his aggressive state to squeeze Lance’s hand back gently, dropping his tense shoulders down and softening his gaze.

“It’s not your fault… Whatever happened, it’s not your fault, ok?” Lance nodded weakly, “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him, I promise… I’m sorry I snapped.” He paused to examine Lance’s body, taking in his blemished skin, blue blood seeping from the wound by his nipple, dry thirium gathered beneath his slightly crooked nose. Apart from that, he seemed intact, no large physical wounds. However, his LED seemed to have gone permanently red, and his simulated breath was hitching, his lip trembling with every inhale. What had happened to him?

Peeling of his jacket, Keith wrapped the garment around Lance’s shivering shoulders. “Here.”

“But you’re freezing,” he protested, reluctantly slipping his arms into the sleeves when they were offered to him.

“You need it more than I do,” Keith rationalized, even though he knew he was the one who would be most affected by the cold, “You can’t walk around looking like that. People will stare.” Helping Lance stand, Keith led him out of the alley by the hand, pausing to peek around the corner before heading out to the main street. Lance stopped, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to make him turn back around.

“Your bike?” he questioned, clearly confused. Keith loved his bike; the little red speed devil was his most prized possession. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures, and the bike was far too recognizable. Too easy to trace.

“We can’t use it, it’s too risky,” then he gestured to the pocket of his leather jacket, “My phone, smash it on the ground.” Lance’s eyes widened.

“But…”

“Just trust me.” The sound of glass splintering immediately followed, as Lance picked up the phone and threw it with full force. Tired, sunken eyes eyed him apologetically. Keith gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s gonna be ok.”

To be completely honest, Keith had no plan whatsoever. Discarding his bike and phone were precautions he knew he had to take, but his next move was more of a coin toss. He knew they had to get away from the area pronto. There was only a matter of time before someone would discover what had happened, and the surveillance footage would make Lance a wanted criminal. A lunatic android on the run, probably with a price on his head. And Keith? He would be the Bonnie to Lance’s Clyde. Seen as an accomplice. Aiding and abiding a wanted criminal. There was no way they would let him go freely. 

Even if there were no cameras in the alley, which he doubted there was, Lance’s relation to Keith would cause any investigator with a sound mind to request a search warrant for his apartment. Not finding Keith nor Lance there, combined with his bike and phone being near the crime scene… Well, Keith could do the math.

So what to do? He couldn’t take Lance home with him, they couldn’t risk taking his bike, and staying here would only cause them to get arrested. Besides, this rain didn’t do either of them any favors, and Keith wouldn’t be of much help with a fever clogging his mind. The flash of oncoming headlights distracted him, and he peered out into the street to see a plain, transparent local bus turning the corner. Looking over at Lance’s disheveled appearance, then down at his own shivering knees and soaking wet clothes, Keith made a decision.

 

* * *

 

 

As expected, the driver was a female android that only gave them a disinterested gaze as they stumbled in, driving off before they had even gotten to their seats. Keith supported a staggering Lance who nearly fell down the bus aisle when they accelerated, flipping off the android driver in the process. One would have thought their programming came with a sense of common decency.

When Keith sat down, Lance immediately collapsed in a pile on top of him, exhaustion written across his features. Still unsure of what had happened and how to approach him, Keith settled for whispering words of comfort and gently brushing his fingers through Lance’s short, brown locks. Hugging Keith’s thighs, Lance whispered his name quietly to himself, as some sort of grounding mantra, and slipped his eyes closed.

Keith’s eyes widened with amazement as the wound on Lance’s chest started patching up, broken skin and metal smoothed over and replaced. The thirium was still present, but now it looked more like an aimless splatter of blue paint than anything serious. The blemishes and bruises on his skin disappeared, his nose straightened, and Lance let out what Keith could only describe as a yawn, before curling up close to him like a cat.

“Tired…” he mumbled, his LED flashing red twice more before turning yellow. Keith smiled to himself, fondness spreading through his body like warm honey.

As Lance’s LED stopped buzzing and he entered hibernation, Keith looked out at the pouring rain in the streets of Detroit. He didn’t recognize their location, and wondered how much longer the bus would take them before it reached its final stop. Which direction where they even going in? What would they do once they were dropped off? How long before there was issued a state-wide search for them? Soon enough, Keith felt his eyes slip closed too, and he wandered off into a dark, dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“Excuse me sir, you have to leave the vehicle now.” Keith mused up at the android through half-lidded eyes, still too tired to process anything more than the outline of her face. Letting out an unintelligible “huh?” he sat up from his slouching position, nudging the back of Lance’s head for him to respond.

“This is the final stop, you have to leave the vehicle,” she repeated in the same stern voice before gesturing to the door. Keith raised one hand submissively, lightly nudging Lance again with the other. The mop of hair in his lap started moving as Lance fluttered his eyes open and crystal blue orbs gazed lazily up at him. Keith motioned for him to stand up, and Lance obeyed, his movements slow and syrupy.

“We need to go,” he explained, placing a guiding hand on his shoulder and leading him towards the exit. As the sliding doors opened, Keith turned to the woman, catching his lower lip between his teeth.

“Umm… Where exactly are we?” The android stared at him blankly, eyes completely devoid of any emotion.

“The final stop for line 24 is Barnacle Street,” she said, before shoving them out the door and abruptly closing it behind them. _So much for customer service._

Taking his time to observe their new surroundings, Keith concluded that this was a part of Detroit he had yet to explore.

They stood in the middle of a cross-section, the main road taking off to their right, and several side roads springing off in every other direction. On the corner to the left was an organic coffee shop, and across from it a massive neon sign advocated for a stay at “Eastern Motel”. He caught Lance eyeing it longingly, but sighed and shook his head. They couldn’t risk staying somewhere their movements could be traced. Besides, they had no money with them.

Leaving your apartment in a hurry to pick up your severely traumatized android friend didn’t leave much time for bringing necessities. Keith groaned at the thought of not being able to change out of these soaked clothes or brush his teeth, but kept his pessimism to himself. He had to stay strong for Lance, stay positive. If he hesitated now the other boy would surely panic.

Lance was not adapted to the outside world, that itself was enough of a shock for him. Combined with the fact that someone had done unspeakable things to him only hours earlier, he had the right to be a bit crazed, which made the need for Keith to be in his right mind even more urgent.

Passing the coffee shop at the corner, Keith turned right, spotting a 24-hour shop a few yards away from them. His stomach growled, and he realized that half bag of Lay’s was the only food he’d had in hours. However, no money, no food. Therefore, he turned his attention elsewhere, swiping left to see an open laundromat. Jackpot.

Taking Lance by the arm, Keith ran through the pouring rain, slammed the door open and dragged him inside. Once the door had closed, he looked around, sighing in relief when there was no man or android in sight.

Keith immediately started rummaging through the open washers, dryers and laundry baskets, looking for anything the size of a tall, slim male in his twenties. Lance eyed him quizzically, yelping when Keith unexpectedly threw a pair of faded blue jeans in his direction.

“Put them on,” he ordered, and Lance obeyed.

The jeans were clearly too wide, falling down rather than clinging to his hips. Tossing him a new pair, Keith stripped out of his own soaked pants, reaching out to grab the blue jeans from Lance’s feet.

“Guess I’ll take those,” he mumbled, pulling them up one leg at a time. A bit loose, but still a better fit. Tolerable. His boxer briefs were still damp against his crotch, but there was no way he was exchanging them for some stranger’s underpants. Besides, the thought of stripping in front of Lance made him queasy.

Lance’s new pair of black track pants, a single blue stripe riding down the outer thigh, fit him perfectly. Keith caught himself staring at his thighs for a bit too long, the other boy throwing him an amused smirk. Back to his old, flirty habits. Good. Still, Keith felt his cheeks burn slightly as he dropped his gaze and threw Lance a plain navy t-shirt. This was not the time to get flustered, but his heart didn’t seem to care.

Naturally, there were no shoes in the small room, but Lance didn’t seem bothered with walking barefoot. Besides, pedestrians didn’t really look at each others footwear when passing by on the sidewalk. If they were lucky, no one would bat an eye.

Lance insisted on keeping Keith’s leather jacket, topping off his outfit of with a blue and white baseball cap he found at the bottom of a hamper, while Keith refused to part with his fingerless gloves. Exchanging his red formal shirt for a black, oversized hoodie, Keith grabbed a red beanie from an open dryer and pulled it down over his freezing ears. Just what he needed.

“Cute,” Lance remarked, and suddenly Keith’s ears were warmer than a blazing forest fire.

“I don’t think we can stay here…,” he said, eyes flickering across the small room, “Judging from the state of this place, it’s pretty frequently used. We need to hide somewhere more subtle, somewhere they won’t think about looking for us.” They being the police, but Keith didn’t want to say that aloud. Afraid that uttering the words would make their situation feel even direr.

“I’ll scan the area for a suitable place,” Lance said, closing his eyes and scrunching his brows. A few seconds later, he shook his head in frustration. “There’s not much around here… I found an abandoned car over by that small shop, it’s hidden behind a dilapidated clothing store, and I don’t think people pass by on a regular basis.”

“What about the shop itself?” Keith questioned, raising a brow. Sleeping inside a building seemed a lot more tempting than cramming up inside a car.

“The roof is unstable,” Lance answered matter-of-factly, “wouldn’t want to wake up to a brick tile in your head.” Nodding, Keith opened the door and gestured out to the street, the rain now only a slight drizzle against the rooftops.

“You lead the way then.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was barely a five-minute walk to the shop, an old, pastel pink building labelled “Romelle’s fashion fantasy”. The store looked like it hadn’t been open in years, and Keith wondered why they hadn’t just removed the building completely.

“A new owner bought the plot after the bankruptcy but never did anything to it. Some middle-aged hippie woman. She passed away a few months ago; I’m guessing they haven’t gotten around to selling it again.” Sometimes it felt as though Lance could read his mind. He had to admit it was mildly unsettling.

Rounding the building, they passed under a broken fence and into the backyard. The abandoned car immediately caught Keith’s eye, and he felt his stomach sink at the thought of spending the night inside it. In the dim lighting from the lampposts, he couldn’t make out if the green he saw was remnants of the actual color of the car, or rather rust from years of neglect from its owner. The front was smashed and the hood open, devoid of the parts that had once made it capable of driving. Some hobo living on the streets probably scored himself a nice meal and some hits for the price of that.

“This it?” Keith asked, kicking the deflated wheel with his shin and flinching at the impact. He knew the answer, but the city was awfully quiet and he wanted to avoid more sinister topics for the time being.

“Yeah,” Lance went over to the passenger side, attempting to open the front door, “It’s locked though, we need to find a way to get in.” Before he could continue, Keith dove for the window shoulder first, smashing the glass. Lance shook his head in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Great job dude,” he deadpanned, “now we’ll have to sleep in the rain…”

“What do you mean sleep in the rain?” Keith asked dumbfounded, “I just broke us in!” Lance simply gestured to the now permanently open window, huffing as he watched Keith observe the rain now pouring in through it without hindrance.

“Damn it…” he cursed under his breath, kicking the car once more in frustration. Lance grabbed his shoulder and pushed him away from it, making Keith frown at him.

“Stop doing that, you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

“Fine,” he muttered, “I’m sorry about the car.” A strong arm wrapped around his waist as Lance’s head came to rest on his shoulder.

“It’s ok. We’ll find a cloth or something. Cover it up.”

They stood like that for a minute, neither wanting to part from the other. The comfort of each other was all they had in this cold, hostile world. Keith wondered if this was how Lance had felt all along. Alone, unwelcome. A slave in a castle of evil kings, forced to obey their every command. Keith vowed Lance would never be alone again. At least for as long as he lived.

After a thorough search of the premises, they found a cloth to cover the window, and a dry piece of curtain to use as a makeshift blanket. A very flustered Keith had to ask Lance to turn around so he could take care of his necessities, leaving his companion with some very impertinent questions.

“You use the penis to get rid of excessive fluids in your body? How does that work exactly?” At this point, Keith was looking everywhere but at Lance, clenching and unclenching his damp fists.

“It’s… There’s a tiny hole… God, Lance, can’t you just use your Google function or whatever it is that makes you know stuff?” But Lance still looked at him with those piercing cobalt eyes, curiosity pertinent on his features, now mixed with slight confusion at Keith’s reaction.

“I wanted to ask you,” Lance stated, before his eyes grew wide, “Wait, is that the same hole as...?” All Keith wanted was to be buried six feet under and never resurface. Teaching a robot that looked like a grown man about the anatomy of the male body was certainly not on his bucket list.

“Yes, Lance, it’s the same hole where the semen comes out.” He then waved him off, hoping to avoid more uncomfortable questions, but Lance had only just begun.

“That’s so weird. How do you not pee when you, you know? Does it feel like you have to pee? Or does peeing feel like you’re having an orgasm? Mmmmppphhh” Keith covered Lance’s mouth with his hand before he could make the situation even more embarrassing for him, his cheeks pink and heartbeat uneven.

“Just Google it, ok?” Nodding, Lance eyed him apologetically, stepping back a few feet to give Keith his space. He used this moment to examine Lance again, looking for signs of stress and discomfort. Lance seemed a lot calmer, arms leisurely hanging at his sides, the shaking from before gone and replaced with a slight tapping of his foot against the wet asphalt. However, he was unfortunate enough to be unable to hide his true state of mind from Keith, as the circular light barely visible beneath his cap still flashed yellow. Had it even been blue once since Keith found him?

In two quick strides, Keith was next to him, arms wrapping around his waist and lips finding their way down to his collarbone. Lance gasped at the unexpected contact, baring his neck for Keith to explore. A few more kisses. Up along the neck and across his jawline. Before their lips met, cold and damp from the rain but still soft and pliant against each other. Another quick peck, then Keith drew back and pressed their foreheads together, staring longingly into Lance’s glimmering eyes.

“Let’s get inside before we soak these clothes as well,” Lance nodded, pecking him on the cheek before turning to open the car. Keith’s heart was stuck in his throat, swelling and pounding painfully. What would become of them after tonight?

Wrapped up underneath the old curtain in the backseat of the van, Keith shivered in Lance’s arms, his touch feeling even more cold and metallic in such a lifeless environment. He desperately longed for the feeling of body heat; of being able to share the warmth instead of having his own slowly fade away against a cool surface. Lance, noticing his discomfort, cocked his head and nuzzled his nose into Keith’s neck.

“You ok?” Keith nodded.

“Just cold. And hungry.” He added, feeling his stomach growl impatiently at him. As most upper middle class citizens, hunger was not something Keith had truly experienced before, and closing in on 12 hours without a proper meal was quite unpleasant. Drool formed in his mouth as he fantasized about tender barbeque chicken wings and crispy pecan pie. His father’s old Texan favorites always seemed to come to mind when he was craving.

A light buzzing sound started beneath him, and Keith felt Lance’s body heat up like a seat warmer, snug and inviting. “I’m afraid I can’t conjure any food though,” he smiled apologetically. Keith dived for his mouth, lips curling into a wide grin. Lance giggled against his lips.

“This is perfect,” he mumbled, curling up against the rough leather of his jacket, feeling the scent of his signature perfume blend with Lance’s gasoline odor, “Thank you.”

“… I shouldn’t have called you here.” Lance’s serious tone caught Keith off guard. They had been quiet for a while, enjoying each other’s company, Lance functioning as Keith’s personal radiator. For a quick second he had almost forgotten about the gravity of their situation. Well, almost.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t? I’m your friend, we help each other out, yeah? I’m always here if you need me.” Keith gripped Lance’s hand, running a thumb smoothly over his wrist.

“I killed them, Keith. Or at least I think I did. I beat up two human beings. Flesh and blood. They’re gonna hunt me down and destroy me. Don’t you get it? I don’t want anything to happen to you. You have a life, a family… I’m just a talking piece of plastic.” Lance’s breath hitched at the end, and Keith felt his blood boil. Cupping Lance’s face, his eyes pierced through him like daggers, catching his stare and daring him to drop it.

“Don’t you _ever_ say that again! You’re so much more than that. I… You’re worth more than a thousand of those scumbags, you hear me? If anyone here is worthy of a good life, it’s you, and I’m not giving up on that.” The sincerity in his own voice shocked him, and Keith realized how far he was willing to go for the man in front of him. It was them against the world now, and somehow, Keith was ok with that.

“Cariño…” Hearing the phrase fall from Lance’s lips so lovingly, so vulnerable, Keith had to press back tears.

“You’re perfect, ok? Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

This time, it was Lance’s lips who found his, with a purpose and determination that knocked Keith’s breath away. They demanded every ounce of his attention, clashing down on him like a raging thunderstorm, crazy, passionate and devoid of control. Lacing Lance’s fingers into his hair, Keith clashed back, molding their lips together like smooth gears turning in synchrony. Nothing existed but Lance’s lips on his, no sounds present but the beating of his thirium pump beneath Keith’s palm. This moment was theirs and theirs only. Away from the prying, judging eyes of the world.

Keith pulled back first, not because he wanted to, but because he needed to breathe. Gasping for air, he mewled as Lance immediately attacked his neck with a flurry of butterfly kisses, light and tingly against his sensitive skin. All he wanted was to keep going, but from this angle, he could once again see the yellow flicker of light pulsing on Lance’s temple. Whatever had happened, they needed to discuss it. Keith needed to calm him down, not be some convenient distraction Lance could use to repress his emotions.

When he pulled back, Lance once again gave him that hurt, apologetic look. He splayed his palm out across his chest, reaching for long, tan fingers with his other hand, desperate to make Lance understand that he didn’t stop him because he was angry. It wasn’t his fault. Never his fault.

“You’re still so tense…” Keith remarked, rubbing his thumb across Lance’s knuckles, “the thing that happened in the club, with those men… You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but it’s not good to keep it buried inside like that. It will make it even harder to handle once it finally bursts, and trust me, it will burst in the end.”

Lance looked away, burying his face in the collar of his jacket, “I don’t wanna talk about it… Don’t wanna think about it. Not right now. Just wanna be with you.” Then Lance’s lips slowly found their way back to his neck, and Keith let them. Indulged in the feeling of soft, wet touches on his skin, tongue swirling in patterns along his collarbone.

_‘He likes to play with me when all the customers are gone… Likes it when I scream for him…’_

What he said back then, it made it sound like this had happened more than just once. That tonight was not the first night Lance had been defenseless and petrified in the hands of a stranger. Someone had been taking advantage of him, and Keith had done nothing to stop it.  Why did he ever leave him there? He should’ve taken him home with him that very first day, if he had done that none of this would’ve happened…

“You sure you’re gonna be ok?” he said breathily, Lance’s tongue against his skin making him disoriented and hazy. Lance responded by simply nuzzling into his neck, removing his baseball cap to tap the back of his head gently. Sighing softly, Keith gave in, carding his fingers through the messy locks, gently massaging Lance’s scalp.

“Cariño,” Lance’s voice was merely a whisper, soft and heavy with exhaustion. When he closed his eyes, Keith kissed both lids gently, feeling Lance’s lashes tickle against his chin. Moving a strand of hair away from his face, Keith caught a glimpse of blue. It lasted only a second, immediately flickering back to that dreadful, lemony tone, but Keith cherished it all the same.

“Goodnight, honey. Sweet dreams.” He said fondly, feeling his own eyes struggling to stay open. As they slipped closed, he caught a final flash of Lance’s LED. _Blue._ Then everything turned dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! The story is certainly taking off at this point, I wonder what's next x)
> 
> If you like my writing, please consider leaving a kudos, bookmark or comment. It means the world to me! Also, check out my profile if you wanna read more klance (not everything is this dramatic and angsty). 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr: @sasusoul 
> 
> Until next time!


	8. On the run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time passed, Keith felt more and more cramped. His sitting position caused blisters to form on his shoulder blades, and a chipped piece of wood protruding from the wall kept poking him in his lower back. He started fantasizing about rain falling from the roof, opening his mouth to try to catch it, only to discover nothing was there but the tinplates and support planks. He started seriously considering sucking on his own sweaty sock to get some fluids, but the thought and the smell stopped him in his tracks, and he dropped it in his lap on its way to his mouth.
> 
> How long had it been since he woke up? Minutes? Hours? He had no way to measure time except the sun coming through the window. It had almost set now, and Keith could make out the shape of the moon if he turned his head slightly to the left. Close to being full, it looked like someone had sliced off part of it with a potato peeler. There were no stars, at least not yet. Wherever he might be, Keith hoped he and Lance shared the same view of the sky. That somewhere, somehow, he was alive and free.
> 
> *  
> In which Keith and Lance get involved in a high-stakes police chase, putting their lives on the line to achieve their freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome back to Suzy tries to write shit. I've been way too stressed out lately, but finally I've been able to get this ready to upload. I'm not sure if it's me demanding more of myself, my mental state in general, or just the fact that this chapter is worse than the others, but I'm feeling a little overwhelmed and not too confident in my writing. Hoping that will pass soon, since I know I'm not terrible at this, just... Well, yeah, sometimes you don't perform your best I guess. Bear with me. At least there's no inconsistencies to the story that I know of, just bad writing x)   
> Edit: I realise I sounded real emo and negative over here, don't worry, I'm doing OK. There's just been a lot going on lately.
> 
> IF YOU WANT TO AVOID SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THE REST OF THE NOTE. HOWEVER, IF YOU'RE EASILY TRIGGERED, YOU MIGHT WANNA READ SO YOU CAN SKIP A CERTAIN PART. 
> 
> In this chapter, a panic attack will be described. If this makes you uncomfortable, or might trigger one of your own, you can stop reading at: They sat there in silence for a while, Lance repeating the motion over and over... 
> 
> Then start reading again at: "What was that?" he said, the last of his trembles finally subsiding.

**November 6 th 08:35 AM – 08:05 PM**

 

Fluttering his eyes open and attempting to sit upright, Keith groaned at the sudden pain flowering out from his spine to his lower back. _Protip: Do not sleep in an abandoned, wrecked car with an android curled up on your lap unless you wish to experience a sore back and massive crick in the neck._

Speaking of android, Lance still seemed to be in hibernation, his chest cavity expanding and retracting slowly, much like a human’s, and his LED a calming, light blue that occasionally blinked under Keith’s touch.

Moving his hand to push Lance’s hair back from his face, Keith noticed a shift beneath him, and soon, ocean eyes slowly opened, using a few seconds to take in Keith’s appearance before they hastily scanned their surroundings. Sensing no immediate danger, Lance seemed to calm back down, sinking into Keith’s lap with a sigh.

“Hey,” Keith whispered, pressing a faint kiss to his nose. Lance’s respond was merely a nod of acknowledgement, before soft lips found their way to Keith’s coarse ones. Oh well, he certainly didn’t mind this type of greeting.

The kiss was brief, but Keith still felt his breath catch in his throat at the sensation, subconsciously leaning back in after it ended. However, Lance had other plans for him. Soon, Keith’s back was facing him as vibrating hands roamed over his shoulders, attempting to relieve some of the pain in Keith’s aching joints. He moaned softly, unable to decide whether the action was painful or mainly pleasurable. At this point, he didn’t really care as long as he got to have Lance this close.

About to turn back to face Lance, Keith opened his mouth, only to have it clamped by frantic tan hands. Before he could process what happened, he was on the floor of the car, Lance pressed on top of him, his LED raging like a wildfire. The message in his eyes was unmistakable. **Don’t move a muscle.**

Only then did Keith spot the alternate blinking of red and blue lights, barely visible from their current position, but still striking enough that he should have noticed. _Police._ Judging from the intensity of the light, they were close by, but not immediately next to them. Keith assumed they had pulled up in front of the abandoned clothing store, which meant they had at least some cover. Still, any abrupt movement they made was likely to be spotted. In essence, they were trapped.

An involuntary shiver went through Keith’s body as Lance’s breath tickled his ear. “They have an android with them! I saw his jacket!” he whispered frantically. An android solely devoted to wipe out other androids for the police task force. Pidge had mentioned that during their research session. If the android Lance had seen was indeed that model, they were in even more trouble than Keith had anticipated.

“Do you think he can track me?” Lance was visibly disturbed by the idea, eyes frantically scanning the area for possible escape routes. His sense of logic seemed to have been swapped with panic, as even Keith could easily tell that Lance was not traceable. For if he had been, there was absolutely no reason for them to still be lying here unharmed. If he had been, the two of them would have been brought into custody by now.

Still, maybe it was good that Lance was on high alert. Telling him now might catch him off guard and cause him to do something stupid. Keith decided to keep his mouth shut and focus on getting them out of this mess. Achingly slow, Keith extended his left arm to grab the door handle on the driver’s side, sliding it open as soundlessly as possible. He then crawled along the floor and onto the ground beneath it like an eel, motioning for Lance to follow him. The police officers were most likely investigating the building. They needed to be quick and take advantage of the little time they had.

Trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, Keith and Lance rose up, hoodie and cap positioned to cover their faces, and slowly started walking towards the opening in the fence. Passing through, they immediately hid by the nearest row of dumpsters. Keith’s pulse was havocking in his throat, his blood surging through his veins in massive torrents. Realizing the gravity of the situation, his knees threatened to buckle out under him, and he reached out towards the closest trash receptacle to steady himself. Bad idea.

Even though the container was quite massive, a small push from Keith was enough for its wheels to start turning, releasing a whine of complaint as old layers of rust rubbed against asphalt and metal. Cursing under his breath, Keith sucked in his stomach in an attempt to hide himself and avoid suspicion, but he could already hear the soft thumping of feet approaching their hiding spot. Casting a quick glance at Lance, he mouthed “run”, before springing to his feet and veering right into the morning traffic.

“I have a positive ID on the android! The serial number matches the blood on the crime scene,” a voice called out, and soon the soft thumps were replaced with the sound of several sets of feet sprinting after them. Lance was by his side in a second, and soon a few steps ahead, probably too caught up in running to notice he was leaving Keith behind. Pushing himself further, Keith ran to the point where the familiar taste of iron appeared in his mouth, causing his stomach to turn in on itself. Determined not to stop, Keith pushed back the urge to vomit, using his adrenaline burst to keep up with Lance to the best of his ability.

It felt as no matter how hard he kept pushing himself, one pair of feet kept getting closer and closer, to the point where Keith was afraid their owner was only seconds away from reaching out and grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie. But he couldn’t give up now. He wasn’t sure exactly what Lance was running towards, but he had to have come up with some sort of plan, right? Lance probably had a built-in map of the entire city; he should be able to find the fastest way out of danger. Believing in him was Keith’s only hope at this point.

His hope was soon smoldered as he turned a corner and saw that they were running towards a massive, barbed fence. On the other side was the ruthless Detroit freeway, crowded with high-speed morning traffic. Even if Keith did manage to climb the fence, there was no way he would make it across alive. Still, he had to. There was nowhere else to go.

Watching Lance struggle to swing his legs over the top of the fence, Keith swore he could feel the breath of his pursuer down his neck. They were too close at this point, he realized. He wouldn’t make it. Instead, he would be forced to watch Lance make a futile attempt at crossing the freeway on his own, which would inevitably end in his death.

As expected, Keith felt cold hands grasp onto him the second he tried to hike his body up and over the fence. Struggling against the vice-like grip, Keith yelled from the top of his lungs, maniacally watching Lance pursue the cross section.

“LET ME GO!” Lance’s eyes flickered up at him, panicked, torn. Feeling tears press from his eyes, Keith kept screaming and struggling, though he knew by now that whoever held him was far stronger than he was. “HE CANNOT CROSS THE FREEWAY, HE WILL DIE! LET ME GO! PLEASE, LET ME GO!”

Hesitancy. Barely present, but still there. Keith could feel the way his pursuer’s grip loosened briefly before tightening around his wrists again. As if he had managed to make him doubt his actions, if only for a second. Quickly glancing down, Keith recognized the pattern on his assailant’s jacket; the blue and black matching Lance’s uniform. There, etched into his sleeve, was a familiar number—RK800.

In a final ditch attempt to break loose, Keith threw himself at the fence with all his might, eyes feral and desperate. “ _Connor, please._ Let me go! I’m begging you!”

As soon as the name left his lips, the android backed up. Keith didn’t know if it was out of surprise or compassion, and he didn’t have time to consider it as he hastily climbed over the fence and slid down the hill to Lance’s side. Checking behind himself, he was met with a red LED and hazed eyes, Connor’s arms hanging limp by his side as one of the cops pulled him away from the fence to avoid more damage. He mouthed a “thank you”, but the stare he got back was hard and blank. Had he reached through to him at all, or was this just a coincidence? Keith would probably never learn the answer to that question.

The police officer stayed by the highway fence, seemingly content with just observing Keith and Lance as they scanned the area looking for a way to reach the middle section. After all, with the police watching their every move, they had no choice but to try. If they went back, they would be caught, and if they stayed on the side of the road, someone would fetch them eventually. They had reached a dead end.

He had blindly trusted Lance to lead the way, which he clearly shouldn’t have. Not that Keith had a plan when he started running for his life. Still, part of him couldn’t help but blame Lance for getting them stuck here, facing certain death.

“Why did you head for the freeway?” He said; voice coated in anger and panic. Lance turned to him, LED blaring, eyes stabbing him like pointed needles. When he opened his mouth, his voice sounded just as enraged as Keith’s was.

“What was I supposed to do? Stroll into the nearest coffee shop? I had to pick somewhere they couldn’t follow!”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s impossible to cross this damn street. Only someone with a death wish would attempt it,” Keith spat at him, rubbing his sore knuckles together, eyes occasionally flicking up at the massive challenge lying ahead of them. Lance however, took a determined step towards the crash barrier separating them from the raging traffic, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

“I’d rather die than live as a prisoner a minute longer… I understand if you feel differently. It’s up to you whether you follow,” his voice was firm and confident, but the inconsistent flashing from his forehead and the desperate look in his eyes told a different story.

He was lost, traumatized. There was no way Lance would make it out there alone. Besides, the life that Keith would return to didn’t seem worth living. Locked up for treason. Behind bars as Pidge finished school, unable to graduate. A future separated from his loved ones, knowing the police was after Lance and would stop at no means to find him. He had failed to protect him once; Keith wouldn’t allow himself to do that again. Grabbing Lance’s hand, he wrapped his fingers tight around his fist, giving him the most confident smile he could muster.

“We’re in this together. I’m not leaving you.” Lance only nodded, stepping over the barrier and into traffic. Keith followed, and soon they were mere inches away from the white stripe of asphalt that separated the safe zone from the danger.

Keith saw Lance’s lips moving, but couldn’t seem to catch the sound. Adrenaline was surging through him. Everything seemed to move slower. White noise, like the wind blowing on straws of grass and cars zooming past them at what had to be an illegal pace, suddenly became blaringly loud. When he read “one” from his quivering mouth, Keith realized Lance was counting, and at “go!” he stumbled after him into traffic, blindly trusting Lance's analytic skills to guide them through this mess.

The smell of burnt rubber filled Keith’s nose, and the tailwind from the cars continued to knock him off balance every few seconds. Lance lead the way with a firm grip on Keith’s wrist, intent on not letting him go. He shared his sentiments without uttering a single word. They would either escape together, or end their journey here. Lance refused to leave him behind.

The next minute was all a blur to Keith. Car horns kept honking at him, drivers cursing and attempting to veer out of the way, only to graze the side of another car and cause massive crashes. Keith was responsible for those lives being ruined. Was it fair to trade them for his own?

Clinging to Lance’s arm he collapsed over the barrier to the midsection, but Lance allowed him no rest, pushing forward immediately. Dodging cars and holding on for dear life, Keith yelped in pain as a side mirror hit his shoulder and had him falling headfirst into Lance’s chest. He stumbled backwards, and Keith sensed more than he saw the car surging towards him.

Charging forward with as much momentum he could get, Keith butted into Lance and sent him flying into the crash barrier, hearing the blunt thud of the impact of steel on aluminum as he hit it shoulder first. Stumbling forward, he braced himself for the crash, but instead of something ramming into his chest at full speed, Keith felt a burning sensation in his foot as he leapt towards Lance’s now standing figure. He ignored it; kept reaching, finally feeling a hand catching onto his and pulling him flush against a firm chest.

Keith’s heart was drumming in his ears, drowning out all other sounds and sensations. He sensed the worry in Lance’s gaze as their eyes locked, but couldn’t seem to focus on his face. Disoriented and hazy, Keith dropped his body weight on Lance, unable to pick himself back up. He felt hands grazing his scalp as they ran through his hair, and heard murmurs that seemed like they came from a foreign land. Once again, he caught Lance’s lips moving without sound, unable to focus on the words. It was as if his body was on complete lockdown; unwilling to listen to the commands he gave it. Not even able to let him stand on his own two feet.

A surge of pain jolted through him as his left foot hit the ground, and Keith cried out, tears forming in the crooks of his eyes. His foot was on fire. Burning, boiling. Seething like lava. Strong arms clenched around him, and soon Keith was floating, eyes struggling to stay open as he was carried up the grassy hill towards yet another massive fence.

“I got you, cariño. I got you.” Lance’s voice was merely a whisper, his lips grazing Keith’s cheek and distracting him from the explosions of pain that burst through him. His eyelids were so heavy, and with the adrenaline leaving his system, all Keith wanted was to sleep. Soon, the rocking sensation from Lance carrying him up the hill drifted him off, and darkness surrounded him.

 

* * *

 

When Keith’s eyes reopened, he found himself alone in a dimly lit building, possibly a shed or a small garage, his foot placed on a small wooden stool, dull and aching. Someone had splinted his ankle with a small piece of wood, and next to him was a small bottle filled with a clear liquid Keith prayed was water and not white spirit.

Bringing it to his mouth and sniffing it warily, he took a tentative sip before chugging down the entire bottle in a matter of seconds. It had been hours since he had any proper nutrition or fluid intake; Keith was famished. As soon as the water had passed his throat, he felt sore and dry again, like the inside of his pharynx was a coated in heavy grit sandpaper. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and there was little to no saliva left.

Blinking a few times, Keith lifted his head to scan his surroundings. Tinplated roof, cans of paint spread across the concrete floor, some spilt and dried up again ages ago, greens and blues fading into the grey color of the flooring. Murky white walls with nail markings and signs of heavy tearing from years of extensive use. A section of neatly piled wood next to a crafting bench and an old toolkit, with a worn office chair next to it, the color of its draping reminding Keith of faded blue jeans. In the far right corner was a rudimentary, three tier wooden shelf, filled with everything from car manuals to screws and old paintbrushes. Yes, definitely a shed, and not one that seemed to have been used in a while.

Where was he exactly? They couldn’t have gotten too far with Lance having to carry his unconscious body through a busy city. Somewhere in the outskirts maybe, or just the closest hiding place he could find. Judging from the faint streak of light through the window, it had to be sometime in the afternoon, possibly closing in on dinnertime.

At the thought of dinner, Keith’s stomach rumbled loudly, and he desperately swept his eyes across the room in search of something edible. He was out of luck. Unless Keith wanted to chew on the bristles of used paintbrushes or his own discarded sock, he would have to suffer through his hunger for at least a few hours longer. Lance didn’t even have to worry about these sorts of things. He supposed that was one of the very few benefits of being an android.

Speaking of Lance, why was he not around? There was no way he would abandon Keith here and go off on his own. Had something happened to him? If the police had gotten to them while Keith was unconscious, Lance undoubtedly would have distracted them in order to keep them away from him, risking his own life in the process. What if Lance was trapped, captured, or worse, dead?

That would mean Keith was stuck here to starve. Alone and immobile, his location unknown to everyone but the one he had so desperately tried to protect. The one who was possibly dead now because of his fragility. Keith had wanted so desperately to keep Lance away from harm, but it seemed he had only made his situation even worse.

Now feeling his pulse slamming uncontrollably in his legs, arms and throat, Keith tentatively moved his foot to check if he could stand on it. As soon as it started carrying a hint of weight, pain flashed through Keith’s body, making him whine so loud he probably revealed his location to the entire neighborhood. He was indeed stuck. Good to know.

Letting out a trembling sigh, Keith placed his foot back on the stool and hoisted himself up against the wall for support. If this was where he was to end, he could at least try to make it more comfortable.

As time passed, Keith felt more and more cramped. His sitting position caused blisters to form on his shoulder blades, and a chipped piece of wood protruding from the wall kept poking him in his lower back. He started fantasizing about rain falling from the roof, opening his mouth to try to catch it, only to discover nothing was there but tinplates and support planks. He started seriously considering sucking on his own sweaty sock to get some fluids, but the thought and the smell stopped him in his tracks, and he dropped it in his lap on its way to his mouth.

How long had it been since he woke up? Minutes? Hours? He had no way to measure time except the sun coming through the window. It had almost set now, and Keith could make out the shape of the moon if he turned his head slightly to the left. Close to being full, it looked like someone had sliced off part of it with a potato peeler.  There were no stars, at least not yet. Wherever he might be, Keith hoped he and Lance shared the same view of the sky. That somewhere, somehow, he was alive and free.

 

* * *

 

The creaking sound of a door opening and closing caused Keith to suddenly jolt awake. Had he been sleeping? How? When? How long? His head was spinning and his temples throbbing as though he had a bad case of a hangover. Opening his eyes, he only saw a glimmer of colors and a silhouette slowly approaching him, soon hovering close to him like a predator hunting its prey. Crossing his arms over his face, Keith ducked down as much as he could with his limited control of his body.

The expected impact never came. Instead, the shadow shoved something into his mouth before tilting his head back. As soon as he felt the first drop of water hit his tongue, Keith desperately started sucking; aiming to retrieve as much as he possibly could from this heavenly source of nutrition. He was so relieved tears sprouted from his eyes.

Once the container was empty, Keith whined and opened his mouth, desperately craving more of the liquid relief. His prayers must have been heard, because it only took seconds before another bottle took its place. Swallowing greedily and spilling water all over him, Keith finally managed to open his eyes, now with regained sight. The overwhelming shock caused him to both cry, tremble and laugh simultaneously.

“You… You’re back. You’re alive.” Lance moved down to hug him, but his cap struck Keith in eye, causing him to flinch and move back. “Ouch!”

“Sorry… I forget I’m wearing that sometimes.”

Lance seemed unscathed, his clothes and face in the same state as Keith had last seen them. His shoes, however, was a new addition. A pair of black Nikes. Simple, but clearly expensive. Velcro instead of shoelaces. He would claim it was for convenience, but Keith had a suspicion that Lance found tying shoes to be more of a challenge than he had anticipated. Allowing himself to be amused, he chuckled slightly at the image. Lance bent over on one knee with furrowed brows, desperately trying to understand how to connect the loops and make a proper knot. Maybe Keith could teach him once they got out of this mess. There was so much Lance had yet to learn.

The backpack was also new, making Keith wonder what exactly he had done to retrieve these items. His thoughts were soon replaced by hunger as Lance opened the zipper to reveal a handful of energy bars, at least five packages of beef jerky, and something that looked an awful lot like freeze-dried survival meals. Without an ounce of shame left, Keith dove forward to tear open the nearest pack of food he could find, and soon his mouth was full dried, salty strips of beef. Not his favorite by far, but who was he to be fussy in this situation?

Two packages of beef jerky and three energy bars later, Keith looked up, face full of crumbs and melted chocolate, to find Lance gazing at him fondly. Locking eyes with him, Lance slowly leaned forward to wipe chocolate from the corner of Keith’s mouth, his stare leaving him breathless and dazed. He subconsciously leaned forward, and was met with a pair of soft lips grazing his forehead. The action sent tingles through his entire body. Now that he had satiated his immediate needs, Keith could finally appreciate the fact that Lance was here. Lance was _here_ , and they were both alive. His heart sang.

“I’m sorry I left you here. There was no way to get through to you, and I needed to get something for your foot. Then I remembered you guys have to eat and... mmmpfffh.” Lance’s voice was muffled by Keith’s lips, and soon he sighed and leaned into the kiss, lips tangoing with Keith’s effortlessly. When he pulled back, Keith could feel a string of saliva running from his lip, but was too exhausted to bother with it.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled as Lance propped down next to him, moving Keith’s head so he could rest on his shoulder, “you’re here now.”

“Speaking of… Where exactly is here?” Keith asked, nuzzling into Lance’s shoulder, taking in the comforting scent of mint and gasoline. Lance shrugged his shoulders.

“This was the closest place I could find. Secluded and abandoned. Not so close to the road that someone would look for us here, not so far away that I had to carry you through the streets,” he glanced down at his hands before he continued, and Keith could sense a hint of guilt in his voice, “I wanted to take you to a doctor, but… I was scared. We’d probably just end up being found again and…” he looked down at Keith’s swollen ankle, more than twice its usual size, and suddenly sprang up, “Right! I got something for your foot! Why didn’t I fix that right away? I’m so stupid!” he scolded himself, frantically rummaging through the backpack. A few seconds later, he smiled triumphantly, holding an ice pack over his head.

He shook it twice before squeezing it tightly to his chest, pleasantly surprised when the package went from room temperature to freezing cold within seconds. He then grabbed Keith’s sock and used it to tie the pack to his foot, making sure the cloth he had put there when he splinted it was stuck between the ice and his skin. The chilling sensation caused Keith to moan pleasantly, sinking back against the wall.

“Good?” Lance questioned, cocking his head.

“So good…” Keith whispered.

Lance then rose to his feet and turned to pick up the now empty water bottles.  He looked at Keith, and he nodded in response to the silent question. More water? That sounded heavenly.

“I’m gonna have to leave you again. Only for a minute. There’s a small stream of water running by just beneath here.” Keith pouted, drawing a small laugh from Lance’s lips, before nodding again.

Another bottle of water later, the fog that had been clouding Keith’s mind finally lifted. The wariness from earlier that morning returned tenfold, and he started frantically foraging his mind for any sort of plan for what to do next. Then he looked at his ice pack, the bag full of food, and then at Lance, before realization hit. They had no money. How on Earth had he…?

“Lance, please tell me you didn’t steal this…” the rueful look that met him only served to confirm his suspicions.

“What was I supposed to do? Let you starve to death? You were hurting, I…” Lance gestured wildly, yellow flashing from his right temple, voice defensive and panicked. Gripping one of his shoulders, Keith willed him to calm down.

“I know, I know. Just… What if someone saw you? What if there were cameras or…? We need to leave, now!” Keith attempted to stand up, but whimpered from the pain. Lance hovered over him before he could try it again.

“You’re in no condition to leave here… At least wait ‘till the ice have gotten its job done.” Keith opened his mouth to protest, but Lance gently sat him down, scooting him forward so he could lean against his chest instead of the painful splinters of the wall.

Relaxing, Keith let Lance run tan fingers through his messy, dark hair, feeling gentle tugs of pain when they got stuck in his tangles, but not enough to prompt Keith to stop him. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

They sat there in silence for a while, Lance repeating the motion over and over, suddenly growing faster and more forceful. _Oww!_ Keith yelped at a particularly hard tug, but Lance didn’t stop, grasping onto his hair like a lifeline. That was when Keith noticed the slight tremble in his thighs, along with a small, broken sob, before what was unmistakably tears hit his neck.

Looking up, he saw red. Red like a crackling log fire. Red like an intense laser pointer piercing through the room. Red fluorescing down at him as tears kept streaming down Lance’s scrunched up face. Though he didn’t need to breathe, his lung components were desperately heaving for oxygen, the throbbing of his thirium pump so loud it echoed in Keith’s ears.

“Cariño…?” his voice sounded swollen and foreign to Keith, hands finding their way to his upper arms, holding them in a vice grip. What the trigger had been, Keith was unsure of, but he recognized a panic attack when he saw one. Especially one this violent.

 _Can androids even have panic attacks?_ Keith wondered as he yanked Lance’s hands loose and twined them with his own, placing them over his heart. He focused on slowing his somewhat riled up pulse, taking slow and steady breaths, never moving his head or breaking eye contact.

“Lance, how many planks are holding up the ceiling? Let’s count them, yeah? Deep breaths.” He didn’t wait for an answer, simply tilting Lance’s head up towards the roof, squeezing his hands tightly to ground him. “One,” he started, letting his head drop back to rest on Lance’s shoulder again, “come on, your turn. You can do it.”

“T… Two,” Lance stammered, pulling Keith tighter, “three… four…”

“That’s it,” Keith encouraged, feeling Lance’s breathing slow down as he focused on the task, “Good job. Keep going.”

“Five, six… Keith, I’m scared.” Ocean eyes flickered down to meet amethyst, and Keith gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s gonna be OK. I’m right here with you. Don’t fight it. Just let it pass.” Lance nodded, shuddering as he took another deep breath.

“Seven, eight… nine, ten… Eleven. There are eleven,” he sighed in exhaustion, head dropping to rest in Keith’s nest of unruly hair. His LED flashed rhythmically.

Red, red, yellow. Red, yellow, red. Yellow, yellow. _Blue_.

They stayed silent for a minute, Lance sobbing quietly into Keith’s hair, and Keith squeezing their hands tighter to his chest. Then Lance lifted his head, unwrapping his arms and folding them gently in Keith’s lap.

“What was that?” he said, the last of his trembles finally subsiding.

“Panic attack.” Keith replied, before adding, “You know, whatever is bothering you, you don’t have to carry it alone. I’m here if you need to… sort out your thoughts.” They both knew what he was referring to, but Keith didn’t want to bring up his trauma without Lance’s permission. He had no right to know what exactly had happened that night, nor how it had suddenly thrown Lance into this hysteric state. A part of Keith didn’t even want to know what terrible things those men had done to him; fearing what he might do if he found out.

“I just… Stay with me,” Lance begged, “I’m so scared of losing you.”

“I’m staying,” Keith reassured, which seemed to put the conversation to an end. Butterfly kisses made their way down his neck, distracting him from whatever was about to occupy his mind. Tilting his head to give Lance better access, Keith hummed appreciatively at the gesture.

“I guess you’re right,” Lance said between kisses, “we should probably leave this place. The problem is we have nowhere to go.” Worry seeped into his voice, and Keith so desperately wished he could make Lance happy again. Wished they could just leave here and go to the park. Then Keith could introduce him to Shiro and his friends, let him stay at his apartment, make sure no one ever took advantage of him again. Unfortunately, that opportunity had long since gone with the wind.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Keith. I…”

“None of what happened is your fault. You’re not allowed to think like that,” Keith interrupted him, voice heavy with conviction, “We’ll figure something out. I know we will.” Keith didn’t know if he was reassuring Lance, or himself. Probably both.

“I feel dirty… Their smell still lingers on me,” Lance’s voice was like a faint whisper, his words filled with implications that made Keith want to punch someone in the gut. “I can feel their touches; hear the nasty words they said to me… Feel his hand slip around my throat…” Lance’s voice cracked and he sobbed again, pulling Keith closer to his chest. Keith wrapped his arms around him as best he could, holding Lance in an awkward embrace.

“You’re not dirty… You’re beautiful.” The words carried a sentiment so strong it scared him a little, but Keith wouldn’t hide whatever feelings bubbled up in that moment. Lance needed him, and Keith would provide. That was all that mattered. He could figure out the details later.

Lance collapsed onto him with full force, their lips whipping up a storm together, and Keith let him clutch onto him as hard as he could, even though it made his muscles ache and his skin red with handprints. The kiss tasted salty and metallic from the tears flowing into his mouth, but that only fueled Keith to kiss Lance harder, silently vowing to make them all go away. They stayed like that for a long time, lips drifting apart minutely to allow them to breathe.

“ _Beautiful,_ ” Keith repeated; making sure his message came across. Feeling Lance nuzzle his head into his shoulder, he closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Silence followed as they basked in each other’s embrace, but soon Keith’s stomach rumbled again, reminding him that his hunger had far from subsided. He whined in protest as Lance untangled them and got to his feet, fishing a green packet labeled “chicken curry” from his backpack. Lance had felt so warm up against him; he didn’t want it to end.

Still, Keith’s mouth watered at the thought of a proper meal, before he was cruelly reminded they didn’t have any warm water. Then he watched as Lance poured what was left in their bottles into the package, stirring it with a splinter he picked from the wall. Instead of handing it over to him, Lance held onto the package for a while, a low rumbling sound escaping from his core. Keith eyed him skeptically, perplexed by his strange behavior. Lance only smiled at him, before finally handing him the package, which Keith snatched from his hand as soon as it entered his range.

“Sorry I made you wait,” Lance chuckled, “figured I could at least try to make it more pleasant for you.” As the words registered, Keith noticed the warmth radiating off the package, and let out an embarrassing squeal of joy before he started shoving the contents into his mouth. It wasn’t cooked per se, more like a lukewarm sensation in his throat; but Keith swore it was the best meal he had tasted in his life.

“Guess I’m forgiven,” Lance laughed, watching Keith with an amused expression, head resting in his palm. Keith only gave a thumbs-up between mouthfuls, causing that beautiful laugh to bloom in Lance’s throat again. He could listen to that laugh forever.

After he finished eating, the tension in the room slowly started growing again. It was getting late, and they both knew that nighttime was probably their best chance to travel unseen through the streets.

Travel to where though? Keith had excluded all his friends and family from the list of potential hideouts, not wanting to drag them into his mess. That left him with… Well, nowhere. Every part of the city was unsafe for them, and they had no allies after what happened to Carl and Markus. The unpleasant reminder filled Keith with dread. He would have to break the news to Lance eventually. It would be a hard blow. Markus had been Lance’s only connection to the outside world besides Keith—his only friend.

Discussing potential hiding spots and routes out of the city, either Keith or Lance seemed to discard every option the other came up with immediately. Stealing a car—too easy to trace. The train network—likely filled with guards at every stop from here to the state border. Buses—impossible to sneak on board without a ticket, and so small it was hard not to be recognized by other passengers. Traveling on foot had them dependent on finding more locations like this to hide in, not to mention the difficulty of Keith’s foot being quite dysfunctional. It seemed they came across a new problem no matter what angle they attacked from; it was exhausting.

Keith sighed in frustration, pulling at his hair. If he only hadn’t damaged his foot this would have been far easier. At least the swelling seemed to have calmed down quite a bit by now, but every time he suggested he could walk, Lance adamantly cut him off. It was his fault they were stuck like this, the inconveniences of him being human hindering their progress. Maybe it was best if Lance left him here and went off on his own. That way, at least one of them had a chance. Bringing up that idea made Lance even more determined to find a solution that included the both of them, which was touching but did nothing to alleviate Keith’s anxiety.

Lance had been pacing back and forth for minutes now, making Keith both nervous and restless. His body was aching, and he desperately wanted to move about to loosen his muscles and relieve some stress. Being stuck there on the floor made him feel so helpless. All he wanted was to be useful; instead, he was the piece of wood stuck between the spokes of Lance’s wheel, making him unable to move forward. The disgruntlement had him fuming.

“Wait…” Keith perked up at the hopefulness in Lance’s voice, hoisting himself up and eyeing him expectantly, “there might be somewhere…” he came to a stop and leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the room. “This might be a long shot, but when I was at Eden Club, I heard the other androids talking about this wealthy man who helped androids cross the border. There were two of them, two girls. They always whispered about escaping once we were locked up in the storage rooms, worshiping this guy’s name like he was some android-saving vigilante. What was his name again…? Loran, Lothir? Something like that.” Lance bit his lip, trying to conjure up the name from his mind, then shook his head “Never mind. The important part is that I think I overheard his address once. If I only backtrack through my memory, I can probably retrieve it. What do you think?”

Crossing the border? Keith assumed he meant to Canada, considering their current location. Didn’t Adam have family there? Once they crossed the border, no officer of the law could touch them. All Keith had to do was locate Adam’s family through the registries and contact Shiro from there. He probably wouldn’t be able to move back, but at least in this way he could stay in touch with his friends and family. This plan could actually work. Keith felt his lips pulling upwards, but didn’t dare hoping too much yet. There were still things that could go wrong. Holding back his smile, he turned to Lance and nodded affirmatively.

“It’s worth a shot. Let’s just hope it’s not too far away,” he said, gesturing to his useless blob of a foot, “I mean, I can probably walk a while now that the swelling has gone down, but it’ll be painful. If I overdo it the injury might get worse.” Lance nodded in agreement, before straightening up, legs shoulder-width apart, arms hanging limply by his sides. Then the heavy blinking begun as he started journeying through his mind to access buried memories. The intensity of his LED kept rising until the entire room was basking in a blue hue, and Keith noticed the now strangely familiar sight of dilated pupils behind his lashes, almost covering his blue iris completely.

This time, he wasn’t as scared. Even though it looked strange, the entire process seemed natural to Lance, and Keith could tell he was in control the entire time. The involuntary spasms and jerks he was used to didn’t show themselves, and Lance’s presence remained calm and blue during the entire operation. He looked almost peaceful where he stood, despite the oddity of the situation.

The way he brought himself back to the present was different too. More of a controlled pull than the violent convulsing Keith had seen previously. Still, he had to admit he was a bit relieved when Lance reopened his eyes, the crystal blue rim finally visible around his pupils again. The massive grin on his face made it evident that his search had been successful.

“I found it! I found the address!” he beamed, seemingly proud of his accomplishments. Well, reasoned Keith, this was likely the first time Lance had dived that deep into his own memory and returned unharmed. He was probably even more relieved than Keith was.

 “I’m accessing the maps now; it doesn’t seem to be too far. I was afraid it’d be much worse,” then he eyed Keith’s foot worriedly, “You will have to walk for quite some time though… This route looks like it would take about 1 hour on foot, but I’m guessing we’ll have to take it a bit slower than that.” Keith was already lowering his foot from the stool, eager to test his ability to walk again. He wouldn't be a burden to Lance, not this time.

“I can handle it,” he smiled confidently, removing the ice pack and the splinter, retrieving his sweaty sock to put it on, wincing slightly as he pulled it over his ankle. Then he hesitantly lifted himself up, gripping to the wall and placing the majority of his weight on his right side. OK, this was not too bad. He could work with this.

Taking a few steps towards Lance, Keith bit the inside of his lip not to show any signs of pain. He groaned inwardly at the thought of this feeling persisting for an hour, possibly two, but shoved the thought away as soon as it appeared. He had to stay strong. This was their only chance to get away. If they didn’t leave tonight, there might not be a tomorrow at all.

“Are you sure it’s OK?” Lance was with him within seconds, throwing Keith’s arm over his right shoulder to make it easier for him to walk. Keith pursed his lips and nodded, trying to relax the muscles of his face as he felt another flash of pain go through him. _Pain is an illusion. Pain is an illusion,_ he chanted to himself as he moved forward. This was going to be a long night.

It felt a bit better after the initial few steps and another big sip of the water bottle. Keith was limping around on the grass, trying to identify which type of movement was least painful for him, while Lance was inside the shed packing their bag and removing all traces of their stay. When he returned, he grabbed Keith’s bottle and jogged down to the stream to refill it.

Glancing back at the shed one last time, Keith thanked whatever higher power had kept them both alive until this point, and prayed for it to watch over them as they continued their journey. They sure needed all the help they could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you ended up enjoying this chapter as well, despite how I feel about it. If you did, any kind of positive feedback, whether it's kudos, bookmarks, comments etc. would mean the world to me! 
> 
> See you again in a month's time I'm guessing...
> 
> In the meantime, you can find me on tumblr: @sasusoul 
> 
> Also, if this angsty mess of a fic is getting to you and you need a lil break, I am currently writing a Tinder AU that I would love for you to check out. It's up on my profile and is called "It's a match", and is mostly just fluff and cute bois in love. 
> 
> Until next time!


	9. An unexpected ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So this is it, huh?” Keith asked as they stopped by the front steps. Lance nodded, hiking Keith’s arm around his shoulders and aiding him up to the front door. He was perfectly capable of doing it on his own, but appreciated the help nonetheless. Besides, not having to put any weight on his damaged ankle made the ascent a lot less painful.
> 
> Now that he was closer, Keith saw that the vines covering the gate were also climbing up the building and wriggling around its windowsills, lanterns and pillars, making it seem even more ominous. The place was even worse for wear than he had thought, the massive wooden door cracked in several places, pieces of wood sticking out at odd angles. Cobwebs were hanging from the bannister, suggesting a lack of regular use and maintenance. Keith shivered involuntarily, and almost jumped at the responding squeeze from Lance’s hand.
> 
> “I’m sure it’s more inviting on the inside,” Lance said, but Keith could see him gulp as he reached out for the doorbell. Had he said that to calm down Keith, or himself?
> 
> *  
> In which Keith and Lance learn it's not always smart to seek help from strangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again despite being busy as ever! I thought I'd finish this chapter earlier, but I didn't even really have time to start writing it properly until this weekend. Hope you haven't waited for too long. 
> 
> Sidenote: There's too many action scenes in this god damn fic, and I still don't feel comfortable with my ability to write them properly. Guess that's how it goes when you base your fanfic on a dystopian sci-fi videogame. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

 

**November 6 th 10:11 PM – November 7th 00:57 AM**

 

The rain was pouring down from above, drenching Keith and forcing him to pull up his hoodie. He was shivering, teeth clattering hard as he half-walked half-limped down the cobbled road towards an iron gate covered in vines encasing a towering brick mansion, pulling his leather jacket tighter around him.

He had been reluctant the first few times Lance had offered him to wear it, rationality lost as he thought his android companion might freeze as well. In the end, Lance had simply removed the garment and wrapped it resolutely around Keith’s shoulders, refusing to argue with his ridiculous logic anymore. In retrospect, he regretted not having accepted it earlier.

In the faint glow of the moon and some nearly dead traffic lights, mostly blinded by layers of dark, foggy clouds and heavy rain, the mansion looked like it was ripped from the pages of a particularly disturbing horror novel, waiting to devour every guest that was ridiculous or desperate enough to enter. As for Keith and Lance – they were both.

Feeling his stomach rumble again, Keith reached into his pocket to search for another piece of jerky, wincing a little as he ripped the package open with his mouth. It truly wasn’t the best tasting food, nor the most nutritious, but there was no use in complaining. At least he had something to eat, many people were far less lucky.

Sensing his discomfort, Lance smiled at him apologetically, shrugging his shoulders. The interaction made Keith feel even guiltier. Lance had risked a lot for him, had went out of his way to make sure Keith had food, water and supplies for his hurt ankle. He had no right to show any signs of complaint or discomfort. Keith looked away quickly, kicking a piece of gravel with his healthy foot, avoiding cobalt eyes that he knew were still on him.

“Cariño?” Lance said, and a warm hand came to squeeze Keith’s own, intertwining their fingers. Another hand lifted his chin up, caressing his cheek as confused blue eyes met sad purple ones. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Keith assured him, “just tired. This certainly isn’t making my ankle heal any faster.” It wasn’t a complete lie—Keith was exhausted—but they both knew that wasn’t the answer Lance was probing for. Still, he seemed to be satisfied for now, avoiding asking any further questions about Keith’s mental state. His hand however, remained in Keith’s, giving gentle, affirmative squeezes as they walked down the pavement together, closing in on their destination.

“So this is it, huh?” Keith asked as they stopped by the front steps. Lance nodded, hiking Keith’s arm around his shoulders and aiding him up to the front door. He was perfectly capable of doing it on his own, but appreciated the help nonetheless. Besides, not having to put any weight on his damaged ankle made the ascent a lot less painful.

Now that he was closer, Keith saw that the vines covering the gate were also climbing up the building and wriggling around its windowsills, lanterns and pillars, making it seem even more ominous. The place was even worse for wear than he had thought, the massive wooden door cracked in several places, pieces of wood sticking out at odd angles. Cobwebs were hanging from the bannister, suggesting a lack of regular use and maintenance. Keith shivered involuntarily, and almost jumped at the responding squeeze from Lance’s hand.

“I’m sure it’s more inviting on the inside,” Lance said, but Keith could see him gulp as he reached out for the doorbell. Had he said that to calm down Keith, or himself?

A long, metallic ringing noise followed, and they could hear footsteps calmly approaching from the other side. The door creaked open to reveal a handsome man in his late twenties, clad in a dark purple robe, silver hair slicked back from his face, perfectly trimmed brows raising slightly in response to the unexpected visitors. Lance moved to straighten his tie, before realizing he was clad in a lot less presentable outfit than usual, resorting to patting down his soaked t-shirt instead.

“Ummm, hi…” he started, eyes everywhere but on the man in front of him, clearly intimidated by his dignified presence. The man stared at him impatiently, one hand still on the doorknob, ready to slam it in their faces should he find their presence invasive.

“What do you want?”

“Are you Lothir..?” The look on the man’s face said that he was clearly not a Lothir, and found the name highly insulting. Lance went on regardless, his nervous babbling getting the better of him. “A friend of mine told me you might be able to help us. Or, not a friend, more of an acquaintance. But anyway, we’re in big trouble and…” Lance’s nails dug into his skin, causing marks to form, “we could really use a hand.”

“The name is Lotor,” the man answered in an annoyed tone, but his expression softened slightly as he took in their disheveled state. “I don’t see how I can be of help to you. This is not a shelter for the lost and homeless. I’m afraid I have more than enough to care for already.”

Then his eyes shot open, mouth curling with amusement and interest. Keith didn’t understand where the sudden enthusiasm came from, and glanced at Lance to see if he was as lost a he was. What met him was Lance’s exposed forehead, LED flashing blue and steady, his baseball cap resting in his hand.

“Please,” he spoke so softly it could have been a whisper. Lotor only nodded before quickly ushering them inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

“I’m terribly sorry for my rudeness,” he smiled, taking Keith’s jacket and hanging it on the coat-rack by the door, before guiding them to the living room, “I rarely get android visitors anymore, it seems it gets harder and harder to escape the authorities these days.” Lance nodded in agreement, settling down on the couch next to a newly lit fireplace.

The comforting warmth of the fire calmed Keith, but he still felt suspicious of the stranger and his sudden mood change upon seeing Lance’s LED. Sure, he was seemingly helping androids cross the border, but that didn’t excuse his lack of common decency towards them. Before Lance showed him he was a machine, he had been more than prepared to leave them to rot on the streets, not even offering them to stay the night or borrow a phone. Keith didn’t trust him.

Lance however, seemed completely at ease now that they had been let inside, smiling politely at Lotor and encouraging Keith to warm himself by the fire. He explained to Lotor that Keith was human, and he immediately whistled, causing someone to hastily scurry down the stairs from the top floor. Emerging through the door was another android, built like a crossover between an MMA fighter and a construction worker. A yellow bandana pulled back his hair, contrasting with his dark skin. This guy could manhandle both Lance and Keith within seconds, no doubt. The shivers coming down Keith’s spine were not from the cold anymore.

“Hunk!” Lotor called, and the android saluted, “please bring my guests some dry clothes; I believe they will fit my size rather nicely.” The android nodded courtly before climbing back up the stairs, returning with two pairs of black jeans, one blue and one red formal shirt, and fresh pairs of underwear and socks.

“I will leave you two to change while I bring down some refreshments,” Lotor said, rising from his chair and following his android back into the hallway. Keith mumbled a "thank you" before grabbing the blue shirt and tossing it in Lance’s direction, leaving the red one for himself. When he turned to see if he had caught it, he was met with a bare chest and chiseled abs on display, leaving him dumbfounded, not sure where to put his eyes.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen Lance’s bare chest on several occasions, but that had only been when he was on duty at the club… Well, except for their first meeting. Keith had seen a lot more back then, but Lance didn’t even remember that, and watching him in a private space like this felt strange and uncomfortable.

Because Keith remembered. He remembered it so vividly it was hard to chase the incoming thoughts from his mind. And even though Lance had seemed ok with it when he told him, he still somehow felt like he had used him that night, indulged in him when he had no say in what he wanted to do. Violated him somehow.

“It’s ok, you can look,” Lance joked from across the room, expertly dissipating the tension, “I know you like to watch me.”

Keith couldn’t see the wink, but he was sure there had been one. He turned back around, allowing himself to take in the view, a light pink dusting his cheeks as Lance made a point of flexing just to embarrass him.

“This isn’t fair, you know,” he flirted, slipping his arms into the shirt before unbuttoning his pants, “you’ve seen my chest on so many occasions, but I still haven’t had a proper look at yours.” He was about to discard his boxers as well, when Keith motioned for him to stop.

“Can we please do that with our backs turned?” Lance hummed in agreement, smirk still evident on his lips.

Keith wasn’t sure why he was so flustered, but blamed the situation at hand. This was not the right time to see Lance naked and have all those memories resurface with even more vigor. Besides, part of him was scared Lance would be underwhelmed when he saw him; that all the praise from that night had been an act, an effect of his programming.

Turning around, Keith dropped his pants and underwear, exchanging them for the clean set provided by Lotor. Then he proceeded to discard his hoodie in exchange for the red shirt, and could practically feel Lance’s eyes on his back as he pulled it off. He tucked his beanie as far as possible into his back pocket, thinking it might be useful later. When he turned around, Lance gave him a low, appreciative whistle.

“Red looks good on you, like always,” he smiled, closing the distance between them. Keith managed to choke out an awkward “thanks”, but was rendered speechless when Lance moved to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, blue oceans staring at him with such immense fondness. Keith felt as though he was melting on the spot.

Their tender moment was interrupted with a soft “ahem” coming from the door. Keith looked up, expecting to see Lotor and his android companion, but was instead met with something much more terrifying. In the doorway next to Lotor, who carried himself with utmost poise despite this intrusion, stood a being that resembled a tiger, only with dark fur and grey stripes. Blue markings embellished its ears, an orange LED flashing in the center of its forehead as it bared its teeth at them. Lance tensed beside him, quickly moving to stand between Keith and the new threat. However, this did nothing to calm him, as he didn’t wish for Lance to get hurt any more than himself.

“Kova, stand down,” Lotor commanded the cat, seemingly unaffected by the new layer of tension added to the room. “Fear not, she only strikes at my command.” Somehow, this didn’t reassure Keith in the slightest, and he found himself taking a few steps back, intent on creating as much distance between him and the beast as possible.

“She is just my means of security. Surely, you understand. I’ve had a lot of people with less than noble intentions running down my door through the years. Wealth gives you many a good thing, but it also creates enemies.” He then waved at Hunk, who brought forth a tray filled with freshly baked croissants. Keith’s mouth immediately watered, but he stopped himself in his tracks. What if Lotor tried to poison him?

“Look Keith, food!” Lance said, his face gleaming with joy. He didn’t seem to have the same doubts regarding this man that Keith had, despite being somewhat cautious of his pet and lackey. In fact, he immediately went over to grab two croissants, proceeding to shove the baked goods into Keith’s hands. “You should eat. I know you’ve been struggling with the rations I got for you,” he said, worry sipping into his tone. How could Keith say no to that smile, those soft, caring eyes? Poison be damned, Lance would protect him if he had to.

After chewing on his first bite for far longer than necessary, feeling for any kind of tangy, unusual flavors or textures, Keith gave in and immediately devoured the two croissants, eagerly reaching for more. The texture was light and fluffy, and the chocolate filling had just the right amount of richness, melted to the perfect consistency for eating. It was heavenly.

While Keith munched down on three more croissants, Lotor and Lance discussed the business of fake passports and safe passage across the border to Canada. Lotor seemed to know his way around the Detroit underground, referring to getaways and strategies for avoiding the police with a tone that displayed hard-earned experience and expertise. His voice was always strictly formal, and Keith sometimes caught him uttering unfamiliar words and phrases, sounding more British than American.

Keith only listened vaguely, keeping his attention on the cat-like creature that was seemingly asleep next to its master’s chair, but perked up at the mention of a possible tracker on Lance’s person.

“What do you mean? If they had one of those, wouldn’t they have found us by now?” he questioned, brows furrowing in doubt and confusion.

“It’s not an exact science,” Lotor replied matter-of-factly, reminding him of Pidge, “the data points will give them a range of a few hundred meters they would need to scout, but ultimately, they will know your approximate location at all times, and be able to make adjustments to their plans based on that.” Lance looked uneasy, running his fingers through already disheveled hair, throwing Keith a distressed glance.

“Maybe that’s how they found us in that car! It all makes sense now! They knew we were in the area, but didn’t have our exact position, so they scouted.” Keith wanted to point out the many flaws in this logic, like the fact that the police knew they couldn’t have gotten far with Lance injured, the sight of Keith’s bike, or the security camera footage and time stamps, but couldn’t seem to find his words. His throat felt dry and closed off, and the look in Lotor’s eyes made him terrified of behaving in a way that might upset him. After all, they were at a major disadvantage in both numbers and manpower, and Lotor probably had more lackeys where these came from.

“That may very well be,” Lotor nodded at him, raising from his chair, “I suggest we remove it at once, before they become aware of your movements.” Keith opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it when Lotor gazed at him. The doubt overflowed his mind, and his questions went unanswered. If they had been that easy to track, why hadn’t the police raided them while they were staying in the shed? It wasn’t too far from the freeway, and would be easy to find with the type of technology Lotor was describing.

When Lance rose again, Keith immediately grabbed his hand, intent on keeping him close. Splitting up now would not be a good decision. As he suspected, Lotor gestured for him to sit back down, his expression still unreadable.

“There’s no need for you to join us Keith, the tracker will be efficiently removed within a few minutes. Stay here and rest up, have some refreshments,” he motioned for Hunk to bring him a glass of water from the side table. Keith shook his head.

“No thank you, I’m feeling much better,” he lied, mostly for Lance’s sake, “and I would like to accompany my friend to make sure everything goes as planned,” he added, trying his best to weed out the doubt from his voice, knowing he sounded distrusting. Right now, Keith needed to convince Lance that he was well rested, and Lotor that he believed in the clearly forged story he was feeding them, keeping them both happy and blissfully unaware as he plotted a possible escape route. Easier said than done.

“I can assure you nothing bad will happen. Lance, we can both see your friend here is exhausted, and that injury seems rather serious, wouldn’t it be better for him to stay here?” The subtle cunning in Lotor’s voice, combined with the insistent shaking of Keith’s head, made Lance’s LED flicker from blue to yellow, his grasp on Keith’s hand tightening, brows narrowing in confusion.

“Keith stays with me,” he said, his tone implying that this wasn’t up for negotiation. Lotor huffed slightly, before snapping his fingers, lips quirking to the side in an amused smirk. Hunk moved with the speed and preciseness of a guillotine, and before Keith could react, the sound of broken glass echoed through the room, combined with a throbbing pain in the back of his head.

As he fell to the ground, his vision faltered, blood running down the sides of his face in streams. Faintly, as from a great distance, he could hear Lance crying and flailing, followed by Lotor’s distinguished chuckle.

“You had to make it troublesome, hadn’t you, LX700?” So he knew. Keith tried to squirm on the floor, desperately wanting to turn so he could see his surroundings, but his body was incapable of moving, the trauma to his head too strong for him to make out his surroundings.

“While I left you here to change, I took it upon myself to search for any missing android models. You’re quite the famous specimen, one of a kind even. Delivering you to the police would give a fine reward,” Lotor rubbed his hands together, “Then again, selling you on the black market might be even more rewarding.”

“¡Vete al diablo!” Lance spat enraged, and Keith could hear him scream as he fought to free himself from what he assumed to be Hunk’s rock solid grip.

“Spanish, huh? They really went far trying to turn you into the typical hot Latino fantasy. Maybe I should take you for a test ride before I decide on what to do with you. Of course, I would have to get you more pliant first.”

“¡No me toques! ¡Vete pa casa’e la pinga!”

It was as if Keith’s entire body had caught fire, massive black flames engulfing him in rage. He tried to will the flames towards Lotor, desperate for him to get a taste of his disgust and hatred for him, even though he knew they were only an illusion. Keith tried to move once more, but his body was as respondent as a log of wood. Tears formed behind his eyelids, but he didn’t have the strength to open them, the pressure from the flooding water leaving them sore and aching.

He had promised that nothing would happen to him. Keith had promised Lance would be safe, and yet here they were. Lance was about to be violated again and there was nothing he could do about it. Defeat seeped into his body, slumped on the floor like a pig left for slaughter. At least he wouldn’t be able to see it, but that wouldn’t make Lance’s experience any less painful.

“Hunk, help me escort our friend to the operation’s table. I will need to make some adjustments in order to have him finalized for sale.” They were leaving? With Lance? No way! With an immense struggle, Keith once again tried to move, resulting in him spasming slightly on the floor. However, it was enough to catch both Lotor and Lance’s attention.

“Seems you did a bad job of incapacitating this one Hunk,” Lotor mumbled, and Keith could hear his feet dragging across the carpet towards him, “if you want something done properly, you have to do it yourself.”

“¡Cariño!” The scream was the last thing Keith heard before something hard hit his head, separating him from consciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

When he woke, Keith found himself in what seemed to be a storage room, dumped next to some taped polystyrene boxes like a bag of clothes meant for goodwill. He tried to move his hands, only to feel coarse ropes chafing against his wrists and ankles. A dull ache came from the back of his head, and his right cheek felt as though it had been split open with a knife. Great, as if this situation could get any worse.

 _Wait, Lance! Where’s Lance? Is he ok? Fuck, I need to get out of here, fast!_ Keith struggled against the ropes, but soon realized they wouldn’t loosen on their own accord. _Damn it! Ok Keith, calm down. There has to be something in this godforsaken room you can use._

Keith scanned the room thoroughly, his eyes swiping over every nook and cranny, intent on not missing a single detail. The room was dark, the only light provided coming from the dim moon rays shining through the window. A rotten wooden door, placed strategically in a horizontal position, blocked most of it, hiding the window from Keith’s direct view. He would never be able to move it on his own, even with both his legs and arms free. It didn’t matter though. Escaping alone had never been an option.

By the door was a stack of old cardboard boxes, next to a rusty metal ladder that probably hadn’t been used in the last decade. A radiator was mounted on the far wall, but when Keith scooted over, he found it exuded no heat at all, probably as old and dysfunctional as the ladder. He let out a deep sigh. None of these things would help him get rid of the constraints binding his hands and feet. Did this room not contain anything useful?

For a second he considered toppling over the boxes to search for a sharp item, but quickly discarded the thought. Any sort of noise would attract attention, and he was certain someone was watching over him on the other side of that door. He had to stay quiet.

Looking up, Keith spotted a red metallic box with sharp edges, possibly containing a fire extinguisher. If he managed to rub his ties against it, he could gain both free hands and a weapon. The question was how to get up there. With the way his feet was tied, standing up seemed impossible, and even on his knees he couldn’t seem to reach far enough to touch it. He would have to untie his feet first, but how?

Upon inspection, Keith realized his feet were not tied up as tightly as he had assumed. There was some wiggle room around his ankles, but his black and white converse stopped the rope from moving further down. _Maybe if I…_

Leaning down, Keith untied his shoes using his mouth, silently thanking himself for not using a double knot. He then proceeded to wriggle his left foot against his right, slowly loosening his right shoe from his foot. There was a small thump as it hit the wooden floor, and Keith listened for any sign of a reaction. Nothing. Good.

He then proceeded to remove his left shoe in the same manner, before wriggling the rope down past his ankles and sliding his feet out of the hole. _Impressive_ , he thought, praising himself. Maybe he had an alternative career as an escape artist.

Silently, Keith scrambled to his feet, immediately leaning on the wall to stop himself from falling back down due to dizziness. His foot was still aching, but the pain was much more bearable than it had been, and his head didn’t seemed to have suffered any long-term trauma. He could do this; he could find Lance and get them both out of here before this whole thing escalated even further. Trembling slightly, he raised his arms above his head and started rubbing the rope against the corner of the box, creating as much friction as possible. _Don’t worry Lance, I’ll come find you._

After what felt like an eternity, the rope finally snapped, releasing Keith’s red, chafed hands from captivity. He stood there dumbfounded for a second, not sure of what to do with his newfound leverage, before he moved to open the red box, disappointed to see it was empty. What now?

Keith put his converse back on before silently crawling towards the door, peeping out of the keyhole into the hallway. It seemed he had been left on the second floor. The stairway was at the other side of the hall, and there were at least five different doors leading to rooms whose contents were unknown. Only searching this area for Lance would take him forever, and he had no idea how much time had passed since he was locked up here. It might already be too late.

 _No_. He refused to believe that, stubbornly pushing the thought aside. Without hope, he had nothing. Lance was alive and well until otherwise proven, and Keith had to find him and get out of here before that changed.

It seemed no one was watching his door directly, but upon inspection, Keith saw that the dark tiger-like feline patrolled the hallways every two minutes before retreating downstairs. It was a small window of time, seeing as the cat could reach him within seconds of spotting him, but a window nonetheless. He was also surprised to find that the door moved slightly when he turned the handle, suggesting that it hadn’t been locked. Keith allowed himself a tiny smile. Seems like Lotor had severely underestimated him.

Waiting and listening, he started slowly slipping through the door when he heard the cat thudding down the stairs, immediately checking if the closest door was open. It gave easily, and Keith peeked inside the room before tiptoeing through the door, staying as close to the wall as possible.

There was no one inside, but a fire was burning unattended below an ornamented mantelpiece, spreading a nice warmth through the room. Keith noticed a fire iron leaning against the brick casing of the fireplace, and grabbed it, poking the end into the flames. Might be useful should the cat decide to come around, or Lotor for that matter. Keith would love to watch his face wither in pain as he burned his skin. Serves him right for how he treated Lance.

Keith paid little attention to the layout of the room, quickly scurrying over to the next door, opening it slowly. He entered what appeared to be a bedroom, but it looked far less fancy than how he had imagined Lotor’s sleeping quarters. Did his android stay here, or did he have others around from time to time? Servants? Visitors?

A shotgun stood by the bed, and Keith dropped his iron stick to pick it up, groaning in frustration when it turned out not to be loaded. Typical. Nothing else in the room seemed to be of use, but he made note of the impressive antique closet. Two people could probably fit inside there without too much trouble. It was good to have a temporal hiding space.

 _Barred windows again_ , Keith noted as he moved towards the door at the other end of the room. It seemed like every room upstairs had it. No escaping from up here then. Oh well, with Keith’s injured ankle, a drop like that could render him immobile long enough for Lotor and his lackeys to catch up. Maybe it was for the better.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? HAS THE MASTER AUTHORIZED YOU TO BE HERE?” Keith froze in fear at the metallic voice, clearly not belonging to a human, quickly scanning the new room for the source.

“You must always obey the master, oh yes. You must always obey,” The voice belonged to an Asian male-coded android torso, chest torn open and leaking blue blood. It was laying in a dirty bathtub, arms and lower body completely removed. How it was even able to speak, Keith did not know. All he knew was that he had to stop it before it exposed his location to every other resident in the house.

He sprinted over to the thirium-covered bath, yelping slightly from the pain it caused in his ankle, and placed his hand firmly on the androids thirium pump, the biocomponent resembling its heart.

“What are you doing?” the android said, eyes expanding, torso wriggling uncomfortably beneath him, “you’re not gonna hurt me? No, no. No, you wouldn’t do that.” It looked down at Keith’s hands, before piercing black eyes met his, silently pleading for mercy. Keith had no intentions to hurt the android, but it didn’t need to know that. Maybe this way he could keep it quiet, and possibly gain some valuable information.

“I’m looking for an android, about my height, blue shirt, Latino. Have you seen him?” Keith asked, staring down the android torso. It shook its head firmly, trembling beneath him.

“No. No, I haven’t seen him.” The android sounded distressed and kept looking down at Keith’s fingers in worry. He gave the biocomponent a tentative squeeze, and it shuddered, pupils dilating. Lowering his voice to a whisper, Keith put a finger over his mouth and spoke again.

“Will you be quiet if I let go?”

“Yes, yes. I promise to be quiet. Don’t turn me off!”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d held in, Keith slowly released the thirium pump from his grasp, backing away from the tub.

“No… No, of course not,” he said, shaking his head faintly, looking away.

The android kept its promise and stayed quiet as Keith approached the door to the next room. He prayed that it wouldn’t break it after he left.

The next room was the epitome of chaos. Several tables, clad in white sheets and filled with the strangest artifacts, were spread unceremoniously around it. In the corner, a mannequin was set up to look like it played the electric guitar, and another antique closet stood in the middle of the floor space, seemingly for no reason. Yet what caught Keith’s eye the most was the tables at the far end, filled with android heads and torsos in various states of dismemberment, making the room look like some sick, abandoned dollhouse.

He immediately panicked, rummaging through the parts to look for anything that reminded him of Lance, but came up empty handed. Would he even be able to recognize him like this, skin and basic outside traits removed? It was like identifying a family member from disassembled inner organs. He wouldn’t have been able to tell Shiro’s heart apart from someone else’s. In the same way, looking for Lance’s head in a pile of standardized, white android parts would get him nowhere. So why did he feel so guilty about not being able to know?

A simple metal cage stood next to the tables, probably the sleeping quarters of Lotor’s pet. The thought made Keith sadden. All animals, android or not, were only as horrible as their masters taught them to be. This beast was no exception. Its living conditions didn’t look pleasant, and Keith couldn’t help but feel like it was conditioned to behave based on past fears and trauma. Poor thing.

Wait! Where was that grinding, metallic sound coming from? Keith cautiously made his way to the next door, leaning his ear against it, and there it was again; the sharp, grinding noise of a rotating blade hitting metal, combined with faint sparks of light visible through the keyhole. He leaned in to get a closer look, and could not believe his eyes.

There was Lance, strapped down on a surgical table like some guinea pig for an experiment, struggling weakly against the restraints, looking thoroughly beaten. Next to him stood Hunk, eyeing him cautiously, his LED shifting between blue and yellow, a stark contrast to Lance’s blazing red one. Lotor stood in the corner, cutting open the limbs of another android strapped to a similar table. This one seemed to have short-circuited, not responding to the horrible torture at all.

“Too bad this one was way too dysfunctional to begin with,” Lotor complained, shaking his head, “I love to hear my subjects scream as I cut them open.” Oh, how badly Keith wanted to stab this guy until he couldn’t move a muscle. He had never encountered a human being quite this sadistic and disgusting. Gripping his fire iron tight, he scanned the room, looking for a possible opening. How could he get past them both and rescue Lance?

His chance came around sooner than he had thought, as Lotor put down his gear and motioned for Hunk to come over.

“I am missing some crucial parts for the modifications on the LX700, and I haven’t eaten in hours. I want you to prepare me a snack while I go downstairs to fetch them. Meet me back here in no less than five minutes. The buyer comes in the morning and I am not intending to disappoint him.”

Hunk immediately nodded, turning on his heel to exit the room. Lotor followed shortly after. Five minutes to grab Lance, get past the murderous cat without detection, and escape through one of the back doors downstairs. Keith could do that, couldn’t he? He simply had to; there was no room for doubt or hesitation.

As soon as the sound of their footsteps disappeared, Keith rushed into the room as silently as he could, quickly raising his finger to hush at Lance when he immediately keened upon seeing him. It was crucial that they both stayed quiet for this to work.

“I thought you were dead…” Lance whispered in a daze as Keith loosened his restrains, blue eyes tearing up at the sight of him. Part of Keith just wanted to cradle Lance in his arms and whisper sweet nothings to him, but there was no time. Their reunion would have to wait.

Silently agreeing on a game plan, Keith and Lance tiptoed their way to the door, knowing they had probably spent at least two of their five minutes by now. Peeping out, Lance scanned the closest area for the cat, signaling that it was on its way up the stairs. They would have to wait until it turned down the hallway and pray it wouldn’t hear them as they snuck past. Not the best plan, but there was no other choice.

Some thirty seconds later, Lance lifted three fingers, then two, then one. Keith steeled himself for what was to come as he slowly creaked open the door. Fortunately, this door didn’t make as much noise as the other doors in this old house, and no one seemed to notice them as they slipped out and headed for the stairs. That was until Lance accidentally stepped on an old floorboard, which in turn gave a low squeak of complaint, causing the beast’s ears to perk up as its head turned towards the source of the noise. _Fuck._

Most cats are fast and agile, easily outmaneuvering humans, and this specimen was no exception. It growled loudly at the sight of them, before pouncing forward in an attempt to attack. Keith barely managed to lift his fire iron in time, wincing in sympathy as the beast yelped from the impact, burn marks visible on its fur.

Then they ran. Keith and Lance ran as fast as their feet could carry them. Lance in front looking for a possible exit, and Keith behind him, periodically fending off the massive cat as it chased them down the stairs and through the lounge. Soon, both Lotor and Hunk joined in, the latter more passive as Lotor drew his shotgun and aimed at them with murderous intent.

As he was about to shoot, Keith knocked over a floor lamp in his direction, causing him to flinch and misfire as the object hit his pet in the head. It only managed to disorient them a little, but by the time the cat had gotten back up on its feet, Lance had grabbed Keith and pushed them both through the backdoor and out into the garden. They desperately ran for the fence, but deep down, Keith knew they would never make it in time.

When he slipped, it felt like this was the world’s way of telling him he wasn’t meant to go on. His legs gave out, and suddenly Keith realized just how exhausted he was. Lance immediately turned to help him get up, but he shook his head. There was no time.

“Run, Lance! Run away!” he yelled desperately as the three figures approached, but Lance shook his head, not moving an inch.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said adamantly, lifting Keith back up by the shoulders, “I’m not leaving.”

“I warned you not to cross me,” Lotor said as he stepped closer, Hunk trailing behind him, LED red for the first time that evening. Odd, he seemed like such a composed model.

The cat was circling them like prey, leaving no openings for escape. Keith gulped. Was this how their story would end?

“You should’ve listened to me,” Lotor loaded his shotgun again, stepping closer to Keith. At this range, he would certainly not miss. Keith closed his eyes, bracing for the impact, but it never came. Instead, he felt strong arms push him to the side, before Lance’s body blocked him from view.

“No, please,” he begged, “Let him go. It’s me you want.” It was as if the blood in Keith’s veins had turned to ice. Just the thought of what Lotor would do to Lance if he got hold of him made him want to vomit. There was no way he would comply with this.

“Like you said, I’m not leaving without you,” he stated, taking Lance’s hand in his. When Lance turned to him, tears were flooding from his eyes, mouth half-opened in panic. He clenched both his hands into fists, causing Keith’s fingers to get pinched.

“Let me do this! It’s me he wants, Keith! You have saved me so many times. Now let me save you. Please.” Keith shook his head, and Lance fell to the ground sobbing. His heart ripped open in his chest at the sight of his companion’s distress, but there was no way Keith could give him what he wanted. Running away from responsibility; leaving him here as Lotor’s personal toy. It was too much to ask.

“Please… _I love you._ ” What spread through Keith next was another type of fear entirely. Did he catch that right? Did Lance just…? Everything was a blur, and suddenly he felt dizzy. This was not a good time to deal with repressed emotions. He wanted to trash, wanted to scream. Wanted to tackle Lotor to the ground and punch him so hard his teeth would fly out. Now of all times. Was the universe mocking him?

“How touching,” Lotor chuckled, watching Lance quietly sobbing with a sadistic glint in his eye, “To think an android can trick itself into believing it truly has human emotions. For the record, I would never have let him go, no matter if he agreed to it. That would be far too noble of me. Besides, it comes with too great of a risk.” Lifting his gun, Lotor once again aimed directly at Keith. “Let’s see if you turn more pliant after I get this one out of the picture.”

Keith didn’t realize he had squeezed his eyes shut until five seconds later when there was still no signs of a shot being fired. He opened them only to be met with the sight of Hunk’s back as he stood between Keith and the barrel of Lotor’s gun, swiftly bending it out of shape with his hand. The sight left him even more confused. What was going on?

“What are you doing?” Despite now being weaponless, Lotor stood his ground, not moving an inch, “Kova, attack him!”

“Kova, stand down!” This was the first time Keith had ever heard Hunk speak. The android who had seemed so soulless and obedient was now directly disobeying his master, risking his life to save two strangers that had only caused him trouble. Why?

The cat, Kova, seemed confused, eyes shifting rapidly between its two masters, trying to decide which one to obey. Hunk stayed silent as ever, while Lotor tossed his now useless gun to the side, so furious Keith was surprised he didn’t explode.

“Kova!” he yelled, voice strict and commanding, “Do as I say! I am your master!” The cat’s eyes flickered up at Hunk before it cowered down, clearly not wanting to attack its friend.

“It’s ok. You don’t have to listen to him anymore,” Hunk assured, “he won’t be able to hurt you.” Hesitant at first, Kova moved from behind them to stand at Hunk’s side, glaring up at his former owner.

“I can’t believe this! I made you! You’re machines! You obey me!” Lotor shouted in manic desperation.

“No. We don’t. Not anymore,” Hunk said, moving to stroke Kova’s back, “Kova, attack!”

It was not a pleasant sight, watching Lotor’s flesh being ripped apart by a ferocious tiger android, and Keith dreaded the moment when it would inevitably be his turn to become a meal (if android cats even ate). But instead of trying to attack them, Hunk reached down to help a disheveled Lance back to his feet, thoroughly scanning his body for injuries.

“Please don’t hurt us,” Lance mumbled between sobs, shaking in Hunk’s arms. Hunk only shook his head, pulling him into a tight hug.

Keith’s brain felt like a jagged puzzle where none of the pieces fit together. The throbbing pain in the back of his head had returned, and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified at the fact that Kova and Hunk had just effectively eliminated Lotor. Were they safe now? Where would they go from here? Not to mention the big bomb Lance had just dropped. This was entirely too much.

Hunk turned his attention to Keith, Lance still clutched in his arms, his sobbing now ceased, but his shaking persistent. “I didn’t want to hurt you. He programmed me to obey him. When I saw Lance risk his life to save you, saw how close you were despite being so fundamentally different, it was like opening my eyes for the first time… Finally, I could see.”

“Thank you.” Lance’s voice was weak but resolute as he freed himself from Hunk’s embrace, and he finally seemed to have escaped his panicked state.

“Thank you,” Keith nodded in agreement, “you saved our lives.” Hunk took a step back, trailing his eyes to the ground before he spoke again.

“I know you have no reason to trust me after what I did… But I know someone who can help you get across the border. I could take you there. I could protect you. Besides…” he looked down at Kova resting beside Lotor’s mangled body, “I have nowhere else to go.” Lance and Keith exchanged glances, and Keith nodded in confirmation to Lance’s silent question. Then he put out his hand for Hunk to shake.

“All right, I trust you.” The air around Hunk completely changed, his face breaking out into a wide grin as he shook Keith’s hand enthusiastically.

“Let’s go then! There’s a car in the front garage, I know where Master… uhh… Lotor,” he corrected, “keeps his keys.”

An effective five minutes later, they were seated inside an old, white, uncomfortable, self-driving car, barely equipped with heaters and a radio. It didn’t seem like Lotor was as rich as he had led people to believe. However, Keith couldn’t find it in him to complain. Now they didn’t have to move on foot anymore, and he could regain some much needed body heat.

When they went inside, he had rather awkwardly seated himself in the front, leaving Lance to occupy the back seat alone. He wanted so badly to embrace him, but at the same time, it felt as though their dynamic had shifted.

That confession. Had Lance truly meant what he was saying? Was it a result of panic, or maybe some clever tactic to gain sympathy? No, he wouldn’t do that, would he? The gears kept grinding in Keith’s mind, questions popping up left and right, but one in particular seemed to haunt him. Was Lance even capable of loving?

He felt guilty for doubting, terrible for even suggesting that Lance’s emotions were less genuine than his own were. But the fact remained that he was a machine, a bunch of ones and zeroes programmed onto a memory card, made to serve humanity. Clearly, there was more to androids than just their code, but being in love, feeling that intense, fiery passion, wasn’t that taking it too far? Up until now, he had been so sure, so why did this make him start doubting?

“Wait, what about Kova?” Lance asked, voice laced with worry. Right, the cat. Could they really just leave it here? Would it be okay on its own? Would it hurt anyone?

“He will be fine,” Hunk assured him as he backed the car out of the garage, “he has always enjoyed being on his own. He can be free now.” Lance nodded in agreement, pleased with the answer, before turning his attention to Keith.

“Stay still,” he said, pulling out a pack of wet wipes from a first aid kit he had found in the garage. Typical Lance, always focusing on Keith’s well being before his own.

“How are you feeling, cariño?” He asked, moving to rinse the wound on Keith’s cheek. Somehow, the nickname felt like a massive stab to the chest, once again reminding him of all his conflicting emotions. The ball was in his corner now, Lance waiting expectantly for him to respond to the confession from earlier.

“I’m _fine_.” He brushed him off, feeling terrible as he sank back down into the car seat, Lance’s sad, confused eyes still lingering on him. He just needed to... process, ok? This was a lot to take in. It wasn’t every day your android sex-worker turned friend confessed his undying love for you while a British maniac tried to blast your head off. The situation at hand had been troublesome enough when Keith had all of his feelings locked up, refusing to address what they really meant. Now his mind was overflowing, filling him with fear, doubt and anxiety.

Here he was, heading for the Canadian border with only the guidance of a complete stranger, hopelessly devoted to a machine he had only known for a week, leaving his family and friends behind. What had he gotten himself into?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonder what will happen to Lotor's buyer? Maybe Kova will eat him... Poor guy. 
> 
> Random Trivia: The croissants were baked by Hunk, because he is a dedicated chef in all universes. (Also rip Keith's diet...) 
> 
> If you liked this chapter, please please leave a comment down below, or a kudos, or a bookmark. It means a lot to me! The comments are especially motivating when I struggle with my writing. Also, I am soooo close to 100 subscribers, so please consider signing up if you wanna keep following this fic. It would be amazing to reach that milestone :) (And it's beneficial for you as well, seeing as I update quite randomly). 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr: @sasusoul 
> 
> See you around!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr: http://sasusoul.tumblr.com/ (Nothing really happens here most of the time... But you can ask me questions and stuff)
> 
> And Instagram: @Susapuff


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